


Kelly's Law

by HooahSergeant



Series: The Law Series [10]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Cop Drama, F/F, FBI Agent Quinn Fabray, Future Fic, Original Character(s), non-linear time line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooahSergeant/pseuds/HooahSergeant
Summary: Quinn convinces Rachel to take a weekend off to relax, but camping is not exactly what Rachel had in mind. On top of her concerns about being in the great outdoors, a memory causes Rachel to re-evaluate their relationship and her decision leaves her even more anxious about their weekend away.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: The Law Series [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693714
Kudos: 15





	1. Present

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a two-fer. The first chapter is in the 'present' and the on following will be a flashback chapter. It will continue to flip-flop like that until we reach the end. I will label the chapters as either Present or Flashback as well.

Rachel had thought that Peter Pan had been a big hit, but Moulin Rouge was even bigger - bigger than anything she could have hoped for or imagined. It was an absolute sensation and that alone made Rachel feel like a superhero. The cast was amazing; her leading man was a sweet, chivalrous, amazing human being who complimented her well, and their chemistry was the talk of all the local papers.

All the media attention on their production had her feeling like a princess, and she wanted to cry and shout and sing for the pure joy of seeing all of her dreams come true. Finally, there were people shouting her name and approaching her on the street to ask for an autograph, even the occasional instance of photographers hounding her and magazines blowing up her manager's phone to beg for interviews.

In her wildest dreams where all of that was a possibility, she hadn’t imagined that it could be like this.

As ecstatic as she was – and she was over the moon – she also hadn’t anticipated the strain that being in the public eye would cause. Nor had she ever thought that she would have things that she desperately wanted to keep safe, to keep private. Things to keep for herself, out of the hands of people who would pull every little detail apart. It felt strangely selfish, but the idea of sharing anything as intimate as her love life made her cringe. She was used to whispers and not so quiet comments - thank you high school - but she didn’t want to share Quinn or see what others would have to say about their relationship. After seeing more than a few relationships ruined by media exposure, she wanted nothing more than to protect herself and Quinn from any more stress. 

It no longer startled her to find that she adored Quinn more than anything in the world, more even than the applause and bright lights of success. Standing on stage every night, she would grin and wave at her fans, but it was Quinn she thought about. Knowing that as soon as she was finished she could clean up, sign autographs, and then be home with her - that was what really made Rachel feel like she was invincible.

As wonderful as the fame was, as the feeling that she was finally accepted and appreciated was, it somehow couldn’t compare to Quinn. Quinn made her feel special, cherished, and loved for more than her ability to hit those notes that made people shiver. They loved her voice, her performances, loved the Rachel Berry they ‘knew’ from those interviews and pictures. Quinn loved all of her. Her neuroses, odd habits, every part that made her her. Rachel could barely believe it was true, that she could be loved like that - and that she could love Quinn as deeply as she did in return. She’d fallen fast and she’d fallen hard, but it was so different from any other time she’d thought she was in love. Their relationship was complex, Quinn’s job saw to that, and it added a layer to things that Rachel hadn’t experienced before. 

Rachel felt like maybe she was actually growing up.

She did love to perform still, and Quinn was supportive even as she did her best to hide from the public eye. It was out though – people were clever and they had technology on their side. Web sites had popped up dedicated to Rachel and inside almost every single one were pictures of them together. ‘Rachel and mystery friend out at lunch’, ‘Rachel and mystery friend’s shopping excursion’. 

Then they got hold of Quinn’s first name and the speculation started. Was Quinn just a friend or something more?

Fortunately Rachel wasn’t yet a big enough star that they were stalking her at home, but it was only a matter of time. They weren’t in Vanity Fair or People or anything like that. Not yet. But they would be, if someone sniffed a big enough story. Broadway was still it’s own little world, not nearly as exposed as Hollywood. She’d envisioned beating off paparazzi with an umbrella when she was younger - actually looked forward to it. Reality was different and blessedly so, because they didn’t circle like vultures or chase her around town. They didn’t even pry all that much.

It seemed enough at the moment that her fans were on the trail. Some hotly denied that Rachel was in any sort of relationship with Quinn and others steadfastly believed they were more, but none of them had any ‘hard’ evidence to support either claim. It was sort of funny to watch them argue back and forth but also a little disturbing. She enjoyed anonymously visiting fan pages, vain though it was. It could be creepy, but it was mostly fun.

They were more, so much more, but Quinn wasn’t sure about announcing that and neither was Rachel’s manager. Quinn wanted to keep Rachel as safe as possible, and to her that meant making sure her job stayed in the dark. Levi, her manager, completely understood their wish to keep their private life private, so he worked around them, keeping Rachel public without leaving her completely exposed. It’s not like she was a recluse. As much as she’d learned from veterans of the business about the sanctity of a private life and private relationships, she still went out with Quinn, often with the rest of the cast as well. In doing so she created even more speculation about who she was dating, if she was dating, so on and so forth. They left it alone and let people think what they wanted. Let them speculate to their heart's content. It hardly mattered anyway; they could guess away - she and Quinn were far too busy with each other and work to really pay it too much attention.

She was very much swept up in the idea of making Moulin perfect and devoted most of her time to practice. If she wasn’t on stage or with Quinn she was with her vocal instructor or working over the choreography for the show. Always working, she feverishly put her full effort into making this show the one that would get her that Tony. In doing so she fully admitted that she had been overlooking certain other aspects of her life. It’s just that they were small things to her, really; eating at least two meals a day and sleeping just didn’t seem as important in the face of a Tony.

Quinn, for her part, was very much aware of how close Rachel was getting to running herself right into the ground. Whether it was sickness or exhaustion that got to her first, Quinn knew it was coming and she had every intention of getting Rachel to take a break before that happened.

The trick would be convincing Rachel that a break was a good idea without getting a lecture. Quinn had already heard the ‘These Are the Moments’ speech twice before. She’d tried suggesting Rachel slow down, but Rache - ever the goal oriented, whirling dervish - ignored her. There was one thing she hadn’t tried yet, but as she saw the circles under Rachel’s eye grow more pronounced and her weight plummet, she knew she had to.

“I was thinking,” Quinn said quietly one evening, stepping into the master bath as Rachel was soaking in the tub. Rachel opened one eye and looked up at her, not even bothering to pick her head up from the towel it was pillowed on. “I was thinking,” Quinn repeated, carefully sitting down on the slippery edge, “that maybe we could use some stress relief. We’ve both been busy, and I thought maybe we could just have a little fun and relax for a change. What do you say?”

“I would say that I’m not actually sure what you’re trying to say,” Rachel replied, both eyes now open and staring at Quinn in confusion. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing too big,” Quinn rushed to say, not wanting Rachel to say ‘no’ outright. “I mean, yeah ok, a vacation sounds pretty awesome right now but that’s – we went to Mexico before your show started. What I mean is… could I make some tentative plans for us to do something together? A night? A weekend?”

“I’ve been busy,” Rachel realized, biting into her lip. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

“No, Rach” Quinn quickly assured her, smiling. “I do miss you, but this is your dream and I want you to have it, have all of it. It’s just... my case just wrapped up and it struck me that we haven’t seen much of each other recently, just the two of us. I'd like to fix that. What do you think?”

“I think your plan manipulation skills have gotten clumsy.” Rachel threw the comment back with narrowed eyes, but she pulled one hand out of the water to lay it against Quinn’s cheek, giggling as she slathered suds on her face. “But I also think you’re right. So yes, yes please.”

Quinn froze for a moment as the bubbles slid towards her chin, simply quirking an eyebrow in response. Raising a hand, she wiped the offending bubbles away and then rolled into the tub on top of a shrieking Rachel.

\---

Days flew by in a blur of bright lights and applause, and Rachel completely forgot about Quinn wanting to make plans. She didn’t mean to, but she got so wrapped up in her show again that it slipped her mind, only to pop up right when she was in the middle of singing “Come What May” with Aaron.

Feeling guilty, she rushed home from the theater as soon as she could get free.

Light from the lamp by the couch greeted her as she opened the front door to their apartment. It made her smile, knowing that Quinn had waited up for her. Stealthily she crept forward, quietly losing her shoes on the way and aiming for the light. The lamp cast a warm glow over the couch’s occupant, making Quinn’s hair shine, and Rachel was struck once again by how achingly beautiful Quinn could be in even the simplest of settings.

A book lay beneath one pale hand and as Rachel pressed against the back of the couch she could see it was a novel, not something for work. Quinn’s hair was all over her face; Rachel gently brushed the errant strands clear of her girlfriend’s features and lightly traced her fingertips along an eyebrow, smirking when it arched. Hazel-green eyes blinked open slowly, dazedly staring at the far wall in confusion for a second before they focused up at her. A sleepy smile quirked on Quinn’s pink lips and her eyes closed again. Rachel bent down and kissed her eyebrow softly.

“It’s really late, baby. Why are you still out here?” she asked, leaning into the couch and running her hand through Quinn’s hair.

Quinn groaned and shifted onto her back, tossing an arm over her eyes as she replied. “I was trying to wait up for you.”

Touched, Rachel stopped her ministrations and stooped as far over the back of the couch as she could without toppling onto Quinn – this time to kiss her properly, dangling precariously over the couch, one hand pressed into the cushions for support. Quinn hummed contentedly in response and curled her hand around Rachel’s bicep, apparently not too sleepy to respond, and kept hold of the muscle when the kiss eventually broke, her thumb rubbing in small circles. Rachel sighed and nuzzled against Quinn’s nose as the rest of her body slid down the couch, coming to rest over Quinn’s snugly. She managed to do it without just flat out falling and she was proud of that, at least. Quinn still huffed a little but her arms wound around Rachel’s neck all the same, so Rachel figured she was forgiven.

“I can’t believe you tried to stay up for me; it’s two in the morning, Quinn” Rachel admonished, speaking directly into the silky skin of the blonde’s throat.

“Well you can’t say I’m not devoted,” Quinn mumbled, eyes closing once again. “I’m so tired.”

She protested briefly with a small whine when Rachel started to get up, but accepted Rachel’s hand and allowed herself to be pulled up off the sofa. “Come on,” Rachel coached, “let’s get you to bed.”

“Mm, but I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn complained, leaning heavily into Rachel’s side as they padded down towards the bedroom.

Rachel helped her down onto the mattress and ruffled her hair affectionately. “We’ll get a chance soon, okay? I promise.”

“Soon should be now,” Quinn grumbled, rolling over as she spoke and snuggling up to the nearest pillow.

“I miss you too,” Rachel whispered and tugged the comforter out from under Quinn. “We could maybe have lunch together tomorrow?”

Quinn nodded against the pillow and ‘mm-hmmed’ her acknowledgement, already fading back into dreamland. Rachel pulled the blankets over her, and rather than walk around to the other side of the bed - her side - simply crawled over Quinn. She slithered beneath the blankets and swallowed a groan as aching muscles encountered cool sheets. As soon as she settled Quinn moved forward, rejecting the pillow and pressing into Rachel’s space, nose to shoulder, hands nestled between them. Rachel murmured a quiet ‘goodnight’ against the top of Quinn’s head, sleep tugging heavily at her eyelids.

What seemed like seconds later her eyes snapped back open.

Rachel propped herself up on an elbow and rubbed at her face with her free hand. Turning to look at the clock, she sighed heavily as she noted the time the blurry green numbers read; she’d been asleep all of two hours.

A resounding ‘what the fuck’ echoed around her head as she glanced around their dark bedroom, wondering what could possibly have woken her. She felt fine, a little achey from a long night, but fine. No need to pee, not cold, and she couldn’t remember dreaming. The tension in her body started to unwind as she sat there in sleep-clouded confusion.

Slumping back against her pillow she willed her brain to relax with the rest of her so she could get back to sleep. Beside her Quinn muttered something and jerked. Rachel turned to regard her with a frown which deepened as Quinn mumbled again, slapping her hand out at something only she could see.

“Quinn?” Rachel whispered, lightly shaking her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

“It hurts,” Quinn keened, hands flopping against the mattress.

All thoughts of sleep easily abandoned, Rachel clicked on the bedside light and rolled to fully face Quinn. She knew better than to actually touch her, though she wanted to, because Quinn would often wake up swinging from a nightmare. It was hard not to - she couldn’t even move Quinn’s hair out of her face - but she also knew that Quinn would never forgive herself if she accidently hit her. “Quinn, come on, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, Quinn.”

“Nooo,” Quinn whimpered, shaking her head and then clutching at her chest. “Rachel. He has a gun.”

Someone might as well have thrown a slushy in Rachel’s face. She realized instantly what Quinn was dreaming about and her ability to breathe quickly vanished. “Quinn, please open your eyes.”

“It hurts,” Quinn repeated, hand violently twisting in the fabric of her shirt right over her heart.

Teary eyed, Rachel grabbed onto Quinn’s tight fist and coaxed it open, hissing in pain when Quinn reflexively clamped down on her fingers. “I need you to wake up, baby. Please.”

“I don’t want to go,” Quinn cried, just before her eyes snapped open, pupils dilating until they left only a thin ring of hazel-green. Rachel quickly reacted, dropping her bodyweight down onto Quinn, covering her shivering form like a living blanket and holding on tightly. She’d learned over time with Quinn’s nightmares that the easiest way to soothe her was to bodily cover her. “What?” Quinn gasped, teeth chattering she was shaking so hard. “What happened? Are you okay?” Panic and confusion laced her voice, and it squeezed at Rachel’s heart.

“Quinn,” Rachel choked, flexing her arms against Quinn’s ribs. “You had a nightmare.”

“I – oh.” Another hard shudder worked up through Quinn’s body. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel assured her and reluctantly sat up just enough so she could peer into Quinn’s face. She looked incredibly groggy and disoriented with her eyes half-lidded against the light, head tossing on her pillow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Quinn whispered, tears running from the corners of her eyes. “Don’t – Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I won’t,” Rachel vowed, dropping her head back down and settling her ear against Quinn’s heartbeat. “I won’t.” The rhythm was fast, pounding away as Quinn continued to battle the aftereffects of her nightmare. Eventually her breathing slowed back to normal and her heart rate fell back to a steadier pace, thumping away strongly. Rachel counted the pulses for a while, drifting until she felt secure that Quinn was sleeping again and not having another nightmare any time soon.

Stretching out she turned the light back off and slid onto her side, keeping contact with Quinn but not laying on top of her any longer. Quinn turned her head, frowning slightly, and wiggled more snuggly into Rachel, most likely seeking body warmth.

Rachel stared until her eyes adjusted and she could actually see Quinn again. Smiling sadly she pushed Quinn’s hair back behind her ear; hopefully it would stay there and not fall into the drool that would most likely escape her beloved mouth-breather as she slept. The tears came gently at first, a few escaping hotly down her cheeks as she watched Quinn sleep until she gave in completely and turned her face into the pillow, muffling the sounds as she cried for relief and remembered terror. Relief that Quinn was still there, breath rasping through her lips and snorting lightly, her chest moving slightly with each breath.

Shivering though she wasn’t cold at all – not with Quinn the human heater sharing her bed – Rachel pulled the blankets up higher on her shoulder and closed her eyes. A tear made its way over the bridge of her nose, tickling her, and she wiped at it, holding her breath until she had tentative control back.

It struck Rachel then, as she nestled a leg between Quinn’s and found her chilly hand under the sheets, that it could happen again. It could happen again and she might not be there… and Quinn might not be as lucky.

In the blink of an eye she could lose her, for good. She could be in a car accident, or there could be another shooting - anything really, considering how danger-prone Quinn had proven to be.

Closing the scant space between them, Rachel pressed a lingering kiss to Quinn’s warm forehead and pulled her pale hand up against her chest. Shutting her eyes, she listened to Quinn breathe and begged her brain to stop swirling long enough for her to get a little rest.


	2. Flashback

Rachel groaned as she eased awake, languidly stretching out stiff muscles and humming contentedly after holding her stretch until she finally let her body relax back into the warm mattress. It was a good ache, the kind that brought a smile to her face along with memories from the night before. She’d become well acquainted with “sex sore”, and really wasn’t too upset about that; there were certainly worse ways to wake up.

As she lazily slid her hand across the sheets searching for Quinn, she considered the thought that they could perhaps continue from where they’d left off (see ‘passed out’) in the wee hours of the morning. When her fingertips found nothing - just a cool spot - rather than the warm skin she’d expected to bump into, she blinked her eyes open, turning her head to find that Quinn really was absent and not just teetering beyond her reach at the edge of the mattress. Waking up further, she began to take notice of more than just the empty spot where Quinn should be, pouting when she heard the faint hiss of the shower running in the background. Rolling over, she stole Quinn’s pillow, cuddling up to the Quinn-smelling substitute and snuggling further under the covers; as tempting as it was to join Quinn in the shower, right now she was warm and comfy. Besides, enticing Quinn back into bed - and staying there for the duration of their shared day off - pretty much started and ended the list of her priorities. Confident Quinn would see things her way once she got out of the shower, Rachel nuzzled into her pillow and fell back to sleep.

Or at least tried to.

What seemed like only moments later, the blaring of Quinn’s phone pierced her peaceful haven, and she let out a groan at the disruption. Cracking one eye open to squint at the nightstand, she realized it was her girlfriend’s personal cell, and weighed the idea of answering it, if only to shut it up. When the ringing abruptly stopped, however, she found herself more than happy to flop back to the sheets and let her now-awake mind wander.

When they’d first started dating, it had taken her awhile to adjust to sharing her bed with someone again. Having been on her own for awhile before Quinn had come back into her life, her sleep habits had changed. She’d grown accustomed to being alone, able to sprawl out and take up as much space as she wanted, to toss and turn without fear of disturbing anyone. Certainly she hadn’t had to worry about phones going off regularly at godforsaken hours of the night or someone easing into bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Then along came Quinn.

Rachel felt Quinn had really gotten the worse end of the deal; she knew she was an “active sleeper”. But they managed to adjust to one another’s presence, and Quinn no longer jolted upright because of something Rachel had said or done in her sleep. Likewise, Rachel had adapted quite well to the challenges of sleeping next to someone who stole blankets and gave off more heat than a bonfire, and was regularly called to work at odd hours.

“On Call” had become a hated phrase to Rachel. She loathed it. It meant that at any point in the night Quinn’s phone could go off and wake them both up - leaving Rachel alone in the bed without her blonde bonfire. She did try to compensate with cuddling the stuffed penguin Quinn had brought her after that last extended trip to San Diego for some conference, but, Mr. Waddles was not a very good substitute.

It made Rachel absolutely crazy. Not because her sleep was getting interrupted and she’d end up abusing caffeine more than usual the next day. No, it was the fact that if Quinn left she found it nearly impossible to fall back into a good sleep. The bed was entirely too cold after Quinn left, that even though Rachel complained about the heat it was so noticeably gone with Quinn that it wrecked her ability to return to slumber land. Quinn felt so guilty about the whole thing, so Rachel feigned sleep to soothe her guilt. There was a bonus to that - not only did Quinn feel better thinking that Rachel was getting her much needed sleepy time, but Rachel also got to listen in on all sorts of interesting conversations. She realized that it was rude to eavesdrop, and knew that Quinn would be less than thrilled if she ever found out, but Rachel was curious by nature and really it was nice to have some sort of idea about where Quinn was running off to. Especially when Quinn should have been getting her own needed sleep (three hours was not enough), curled around Rachel, sleeping soundly and dreaming about whatever it was Quinn dreamt about.

Unfortunately, she was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t always just work getting Quinn up from bed and out of the apartment at strange hours. For the last week or so Quinn had been receiving calls - strange, non-work related calls - and Rachel was starting to feel, well, slightly insecure about it. She knew for a fact that Quinn hadn’t been on call when she woke up a little after 2am on the weekend to respond to a call on her personal phone. Initially she’d dismissed it; it was possible that Judy or Cam might have called due to an emergency, but, then again, Quinn would tell her that... right?

But then it kept happening, and Quinn had started to act strangely. Sneaking out, not saying a word about it to Rachel, in fact full on lying when Rachel asked where she’d disappeared off to. Rachel had toyed with the idea of breaking her cover and admitting that she’d not been sleeping when Quinn answered the phone, but she figured the repercussions wouldn’t be worth the brief satisfaction of telling Quinn to ignore the call. Plus, she was attached to the shallow comfort she got out of knowing where Quinn was going, that way she knew if she should be worried or not.

Not that she wasn’t almost always worrying about Quinn. Her job was dangerous - a discussion point that they’d covered several times over. Rachel just believed that it was better for her sanity if she knew whether Quinn had been called to her job, or if she was simply meeting a friend.

With these mysterious phone calls continuing, Rachel started to worry about new things. Wondering if it could be something… bad. If maybe Quinn had gotten caught up in something - her imagination was as active as always and she could see all sorts of crazy scenarios playing out. It didn’t even cross her mind at first that Quinn might be sneaking out to see someone else. At least not in a romantic sense. No, that thought hadn’t come until later, until after she realized she wasn’t sure how many calls and trips there had been. 

Then she started wondering.

Eventually she’d caught enough information to know that the caller was a woman. A woman Quinn appeared to know very well, even though she’d never mentioned a “Millie” before.

As the annoying whine of Quinn’s phone broke into her musings once again, Rachel decided she just couldn’t take it anymore.

That voice, that terribly insidious nudge of insecurity at the back of her mind, had risen once again to whisper things to her. Rachel knew that Quinn wouldn’t cheat on her, she did, she did, she did… but the longer the calls went on and with how oddly Quinn was sometimes acting, it wasn’t helping.

With all those doubts about herself and her ability to attract and maintain a relationship resurfacing… surely it wouldn’t hurt to answer the call, right? Just to know?

Chewing on her bottom lip, she reluctantly crawled out of bed, and stood naked in Quinn’s bedroom staring at the still ringing phone, a war going on inside her head.

“Quinn could have anyone, and you think she’d pick you?”

Doubt whispered, and Rachel caved, lunging for the phone.

“Hello?” she answered, a little out of breath just from the anticipation alone.

“Uh, hi? Is Quinn there?” a woman’s voice - Millie, she assumed - asked.

“She’s in the shower,” Rachel said, more smug than she should have been. “May I ask who’s calling? I’ll let her know.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just call back. Are you… are you her girlfriend?”

“I am - and I know who you are, Millie,” Rachel snapped, possessiveness mixing potently with anxiety. She’d be damned if she let this little hussy know she was nervous about her. There’d be time to cry and fret and over think the whole thing later. For now she just wanted to try and put this other woman in her place.

“Right. Didn’t know she had a girlfriend. But, yeah, I’ll just call back.”

The line went dead.

Rachel set the phone down carefully, fighting back tears as her mind took hold of the new information and painted an ugly scene for her.

“Rachel?” Quinn called from the bathroom. “Rach, are you awake?”

Clearing her throat, Rachel shook her head, set her shoulders, and turned her eyes up to the ceiling, banishing her tears back where they came from. If only that worked. “Yes, I’m awake. I’m sorry but I need to - I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

“You what? Rachel?”

By the time Quinn exited the bathroom wearing a towel and a confused expression, Rachel was already gone. A note on the nightstand caught her eye and she plucked it up apprehensively, only to have her heart drop into her stomach as she read the messy scrawl.

Quinn, Millie called.

\--

By the time Rachel got home, she wasn’t sure what to do. She was just so angry. Eventually she ended up spending the day in her apartment, passing the time by attempting to get her emotions out through songwriting, tears, the music of her “good cry” play list, and fitful sleep. She’d taken Mr. Waddles with her, just not able to bear leaving him behind. Not if he was going to be the only thing she had left of Quinn. He was still a poor substitute, but she managed to take some comfort in sobbing into his soft, fuzzy fur and squishing him to her chest. It alleviated some of the ache, even as the memory of how she got him made her cry harder.

She wasted the day away thinking, pacing, and trying to rationalize and calm her thoughts. Part of her knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, that she was being insane, absolutely crazy, but the other part couldn’t let go - not once the “what if’s” got planted in her head. It wasn’t the first time whispers of supposed infidelity had caressed her mind, but this time seemed so much more plausible than the others. Jealousy hadn’t caused these thoughts; no one had given her these ideas to upset her and try and usurp her when she became emotionally unstable.

This time the evidence was all in her hands.

Evening came and with it the anger returned, flaring hot and sudden. It was so fierce that it shook her hands, dried her tears, and gave her purpose.

Rachel Berry was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a coward.

Stomach in knots, hands in fists, Rachel made up her mind, and quickly found herself knocking on Quinn’s door, even though she still had a key. Still, but maybe not for much longer.

Quinn’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot when she opened the door and Rachel immediately felt conflicted, just for a second. The voice of Reason on her shoulder opposite of Doubt was pleading with her to stop and think, to look at Quinn and see past the fog of fear. She shook it off, insecurity pulling more strongly. There would probably always be a part of her that wanted to take Quinn into her arms and shield her from the world, to hold her and love her and make it all better. Some things hadn’t changed over the years - they probably never would - but just because she felt that way still didn’t mean Quinn was innocent.

“Who is she?” Rachel demanded, crossing her arms firmly to keep from reaching out.

“Rachel,” Quinn said softly, and opened the door wider. It was simple and sad, and it tugged at Rachel’s heart.

“Who is Millie, Quinn?” Rachel asked again, stomping into Quinn’s living room and spinning on her heel to level Quinn with the harshest glare possible with tears already burning her eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Rachel, I can’t talk about this right now, okay? I really… I just can’t.” Quinn slumped under some invisible pressure, proud shoulders caving as she scrubbed at her own teary eyes.

“You can’t?” Rachel repeated and punctuated it with a snort. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that. You can’t what, Quinn? Admit that you’re cheating on me?” That word. That vile, disgusting word. Rachel almost choked over it.

“You…” Quinn’s mouth fell open, hands falling away from her face. “You think I’m cheating on you? Because of…”

“God, I thought you’d at least be grown up enough to admit it,” Rachel interrupted with a sneer, so caught up in her own hurt that she missed the honest shock that passed across Quinn’s face. “I can’t believe I thought that you changed. But when have I ever learned with you?”

“Wait. Really?” Quinn said lowly, voice wobbling. “You’re going to - because of high school? Is that what you’re bringing up, what you’re implying? Really, Rachel, is that what you think of me? That I’ve never grown, never changed from the girl I was?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rachel hissed, dismissing the destroyed way Quinn was looking at her. “It doesn’t matter what I thought of you. I trusted you now, I loved you. How can you do this to me? I don’t know how you can even look at me right now. Or is that the pay off, Quinn - getting to see Rachel ‘Man Hands’ Berry humiliated and heartbroken one more time, just for shits and giggles. You won’t even admit it. I mean, maybe I’m wrong,” Rachel swallowed hard, that voice on her shoulder begging louder now for her to listen. She couldn’t be wrong, she wasn’t. “If I’m wrong then just tell me who she is. Explain yourself for once in this relationship.”

Quinn was staring at her, tears streaking her face and arms shaking at her sides, with such unbelievable pain on her face that it nearly stole Rachel’s breath away. In hindisght, she was really wishing she’d chosen a different tactic for this confrontation. Quinn didn’t look guilty. 

She looked devastated.

“Loved?” Quinn finally croaked, those trembling arms snaking around her own body to try and hold herself together.

“Quinn,” Rachel whispered, the enormity of what she’d just pushed them both into crashing down on her. Doubt left her to clean up her mess and rationality couldn’t help her now. “I… I didn’t…”

“Just go, Rachel,” Quinn said stiffly, changing before Rachel’s eyes. She was still obviously devastated, but walls went up, her eyes dried, her chin lifted, and just like that Rachel was being locked out.

“Go. Get out, leave, and don’t look back. I have too much going on right now to try and untangle this. Clearly you’ve already made up your mind. So get out.”

“Quinn,” Rachel tried again, scrambling to find words, any possible way to back up and try again. But whatever she might have come up with wouldn’t have mattered, because Quinn was already turning and heading back towards her room.

She didn’t turn back.

The bedroom door closed with a firm sound and the click of the lock finalized it.

Rachel was left standing in Quinn’s living room, looking around and seeing signs of herself, a picture here, a memory there. All of her anger had faded, leaving her desolate and vulnerable to the sting of guilt and the heaviness of the abuse she’d just put them both through.

She barely made it out of the apartment her eyes were so blurry. The entirety of the trip back to her own apartment was a blur, filled with a single repeated thought.

What had she done?

\---

“What did you do?” Ryan asked brusquely, three days later, as he shouldered his way into Rachel’s apartment with no other words of greeting. Not that you could really call his question any sort of greeting at all.

Normally Rachel would have been annoyed at his lack of manners, but considering the reason for his visit she figured she’d more than earned a little rudeness. Closing the door back behind him she dropped her forehead against the solid wood, grateful for the temporary leaning post.

“I messed up,” she admitted hoarsely, slowly rotating around until her back was pressed into the door, unwilling to completely give up its support just yet. “Ryan, I messed up so badly.”

“No, you think?” Ryan snipped, arms firmly crossed over his chest as he observed her. “Jesus. You both look like shit that got stuck to the bottom of a shoe and then scraped off with a credit card.”

She wanted to smile at his colorful description - so classically Ryan - but fresh tears welled instead, trailing down the well-worn path left on her face by the seemingly endless stream she’d been dealing with ever since she fled Quinn’s apartment. “Is - is she...?”

“She’s not good if that’s what you’re about to ask,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “You and me are going to figure this out, little girl, right now. Because I either need to kill you for what you did or I need to fix it. So, I repeat, ‘What. Did. You. Do?’”

“I lost her,” Rachel whispered, promptly losing what small bit of resolve she’d been holding onto.

Dumbfounded, sleep deprived, annoyed, and worried, Ryan reached out and crushed her into his chest, easily overpowering her flailing protestations. “Okay, alright. I’m really not good at this girly, feelings stuff but I can’t take this. Come on, shhh, you didn’t lose anything.”

“She was getting these phone calls from this woman and she lied when I asked and I thought she’d found someone better and I don’t deserve her!”

Ryan blinked an extra couple of times, trying to process that rapid fire, tear garbled sentence. He was used to being confused by the fairer sex, but sometimes it was like they were speaking a foreign language and he didn’t even have Google Translate on his side. Still, he got the gist of what she was still somewhat hysterically blubbering into his shoulder - enough to know that this was going to be more of a patch job. That was a relief, because he liked Rachel and he had been afraid he’d have to do his big brother duty and tell her to stay the hell away from Quinn forever and some other aggressively big brotherly stuff. Helping them repair whatever hole they’d put in their love boat would be much easier. Flexing his arms around her in warning Ryan easily picked Rachel up, halfway dragging her into the living room to deposit her weepy, snotty mess onto the couch.

“If you ever tell me that you don’t deserve Quinn again I’m going to Ghost of Christmas Past you so hard you’ll be stunned stupid for weeks, got me?” he snapped, using his “Marine” voice to get her attention. It worked like it always did, just like a freakin’ charm. She immediately sucked in a sharp breath at his tone, bit into her bottom lip to stifle her cries, and stared up at him with wide, teary, trusting eyes. “Good. Now can we try this whole conversation thing again? In English instead of whatever garbled mess that was before? Also, you really need a tissue; I can’t focus with the snot bubble peeking at me from your left nostril.”

Rachel squeaked in mortification and quickly reached to cover her nose, only to realize he was teasing her as he broke into a grin and a warm chuckle at her expense.

“That’s not funny,” she sniffled, dropping her hand back into her lap to tangle with the other.

“It’s a little funny,” he disagreed, plopping down onto the couch next to her. “Now. What the hell happened?”

“Quinn was getting phone calls from another woman on her personal line. Someone named “Millie”,” Rachel explained slowly, trying to keep from hiccupping in the middle of a word. “I started, um, I started to think that maybe she was cheating and then I couldn’t get it out of my head. I - then it was - I never feel like I’m enough, Ryan. Like I’ve earned things. I’m always trying to be deserving and it’s never ending. I let my insecurities get the best of me and I…” Rachel paused, screwing her eyes tightly shut but unable to escape the image of Quinn’s face, the way she’d looked at her the last time they saw each other. “I accused her of cheating. She said she doesn’t have time to deal with this right now.” Embarrassed, Rachel ducked her head, avoiding looking him in the eye. “I pushed and pushed her and sabotaged myself like I always do, and now…”

She trailed off and left it there, wallowing in her guilt and despair. Rubbing her chilly hands up her arms to try and work some semblance of warmth back into her body, she realized she missed her blonde bonfire. Not that she’d ever get to feel that warmth again...

“Tadpole,” Ryan said, hesitating only for a second before he draped a long arm over her shoulders. She leaned willingly into him, shuddering like a frightened dog as he kissed the top of her head. “We all get insecure. Everyone’s got insecurities, and they always seem to pop up when things are going really well. What I don’t understand is how you could believe them; you really thought Quinn would cheat on you? That’s… never, Rachel. She would never do that to you.”

Rachel took a steadying breath and reached for words to explain it. “It’s one of those horrible ideas that gets trapped in your mind. Like a song that you hate that comes on the radio and no matter how much you hate it you can’t stop from humming it later.” She tilted her head up, bending back far enough to bravely look at him again. “What did I do, Ryan? What did I do?”

“It doesn’t matter - it’s done. What does matter is that you’re going to undo it and I’m going to help,” he stated calmly. “Millie, by the way, is from DC; she’s from Quinn’s old unit.”

Rachel stared at him, his features going blurry through her tears as she felt even worse than before. You’re so stupid. Her insecurities had always weighed her down, always blinded her to the reality of situations, and she wondered when that would ever stop.

“You know her?” She swiped wildly at her eyes, not bothering to try and hide her attempts to wipe away her tears, eternally grateful when Ryan just squeezed her closer and held out a Kleenex.

“Not really. It’s more that I know of her. She was sort of Quinn’s apprentice, I guess you could call her. I know she’s in town right now, but I don’t know why. Q wouldn’t talk about it, which tells me that it’s nothing good.”

Groaning piteously, Rachel dropped her face into her palms. “I made such a mess. She’s never going to forgive me for what I said.”

“Quinn loves you, you idiot,” Ryan huffed, wanting to slap both of them for over complicating something so simple. If they’d just learn to talk to one another he wouldn’t have to be risking life and limb to mediate. “This is repairable, Tadpole. Though I do still want to kick your ass for leaving the apartment. Why did you run? You didn’t stay and work it out. It sounds like you didn’t even try.”

“She told me to go and I didn’t know what else to do - I think I was in shock,” Rachel whimpered. “I knew it was wrong the second the door closed. The look on her face… I hurt her, Ryan. God, I really hurt her.”

“You two are too stubborn for your own good,” Ryan grumbled, scratching at his chin and wincing. “She’s not entirely without fault, you know. One of these days she’ll actually learn how to talk to people instead of stonewalling all the time.”

Rachel didn’t comment on that, knowing that it would probably take a long time before Quinn ever gave up that defense mechanism. “How - how are we… you said I can fix it and it sounds like you might have an idea how?” she asked hopefully, relaxing deeper into his warm side.

“I have an idea, yeah, but you’re going to owe me because she’s going to be pissed,” he told her sternly.

“Ryan, if you help me get her back I’m going to owe you until the day I die,” Rachel said, grabbing for one of his hands and squeezing it. “Please, please help me get her back.”

Ryan sighed again, squeezing her hand in return. “You get me a date with Allison and we’ll call it even. Deal?”

“Deal,” Rachel eagerly agreed. 

Setting her jaw firmly and holding tightly to Ryan’s hand, Rachel listened with rapt attention as he began to detail his plan to her. 

It had to work. It was going to work. 

There just wasn’t another option.


	3. Present

The next morning Rachel left Quinn sleeping soundly in bed and escaped to the bathroom for a very hot shower, hoping to chase away the chill that stayed with her from hearing Quinn’s whimpers the night before. Quinn only frowned when Rachel left, clearly still in need of a few more precious minutes of sleep. She never could stay asleep long after Rachel got up, often whining that she needed her cuddle buddy. Who would have thought that Quinn Fabray was actually a cuddle fiend?

Deep in the midst of her “rinse cycle” and a powerful rendition of Foster the People’s “I Would Do Anything For You” - bathroom acoustics are phenomenal, thank you - Rachel squeaked in surprise as the shower curtain was unceremoniously yanked back and Quinn stuck her head into the stall. 

“Quinn!” Rachel yelped, squint-glaring through the water. “I don’t have time, so just... do not tempt me.”

“Hm?” Quinn replied quizzically, forehead furrowed and head tilted to the side. “What?”

It was then that Rachel noticed that Quinn was actually clothed and she deflated somewhat. She’d actually been looking forward to a little banter that would inevitably lead to her pulling Quinn into her shower anyway. Quinn’s nightmare had shaken her more than she’d like to admit, and it left her craving the security of physical contact. It was a sure fire way to reaffirm Quinn’s living presence in her mind. If she could touch Quinn and be touched in return it meant that Quinn was real - not a ghost or some figment of her imagination. Which, yes, might have been a tad dramatic, but she always needed the assurance after Quinn’s nightmares and she knew that Quinn often needed it too, this reminder that they were both alright. Unfortunately, they really don’t have time - not if neither of them wanted to be late to work. 

“Nothing,” Rachel sighed, shaking her head. “Never mind, I think I’m not awake yet. Was there a reason you decided to let all the steam out, or did you just want to stare at me?”

Quinn pursed her lips and drew the curtain over until just her head was peeking through. “Sorry. Ryan had a suggestion last night that I was hoping to talk to you about but… yeah. So I thought I’d bring it up this morning before you escaped.”

“A suggestion?” Rachel asked, going back to lathering her hair a second time. At least she thought it was the second time, she couldn’t quite remember.

“Camping,” Quinn stated simply, more focused on tracing the river of suds moving down Rachel’s shoulders than putting together actual sentences. She suddenly wished she’d had the forethought to strip before coming to talk to Rachel. Water conservation aside, sudsy Rachel was a pretty tempting distraction and she could probably get Ryan to cover for her…

“Camping,” Rachel parroted and opened one eye to peer incredulously back at a very engrossed Quinn. She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as she watched Quinn blatantly ogle her. “Care to elaborate?”

Earth to Quinn, Rachel speaking, Quinn cleared her throat and cast her gaze up at the ceiling, away from all that glorious skin. Hopefully it would keep her from crawling into the shower with her clothes on. She’d already rolled into the tub in one of her favorite suits and a repeat performance wouldn’t be as charming, she was sure. Besides, that had been after work and she’d been able to spend the rest of the night delightfully naked and otherwise occupied. “This weekend - you, me, Allison, and Ryan. Campfires, beer, vegan hotdogs for you, normal people food for the rest of us. Tents and sleeping bags and late night stargazing. Say yes?”

“This weekend?” Rachel asked, tipping her head back under the water to work the shampoo out.

Quinn was pretty sure her eyes were bugging out of her skull at this point; probably, but then she had to wonder if Rachel was doing this on purpose. “Y-yeah. Yes. Um, and before you say no automatically because of your show, you do have that person-who-shall-not-be-named. You know the one that could cover for you so we could go, just for one weekend.”

Rachel glared as she grabbed blindly for her soap bottle. “I can’t believe you brought that up. I’m appalled.”

Quinn sighed heavily and stared down at the water swirling around the drain. “Rachel, I want - I miss you.”

It wasn’t exactly the same thing that Quinn had said that night - the night - but Rachel froze anyway and squeezed the soap bottle too hard, dumping way too much of the fragrant gel onto her bath sponge. Her breath caught in her throat as brief images flashed by, too fast for her to see clearly but enough - just enough - to make her heart stammer to a stop.

“Rachel?”

“I - I…” Rachel sputtered, voice cracking, and she realized she was just standing there, staring sightlessly at her sponge, kneading it in her hands like a cat. She cleared her throat and started to wash her skin as if she hadn’t just completely spaced out. “Yes, we can go. Let’s go. I’ll get it all settled today. When do we leave? Do we need to get supplies? Do you even own a tent? Wait… does it have to be a tent? Is there another option?” she babbled as the sponge dropped from her unresponsive fingers. Frowning at herself, she stared down at the sponge, annoyed that it had escaped her grasp so easily. She jerked in surprise when Quinn’s hands touched her shoulders, blinking up at her as water slipped down her face. 

“Rachel.”

“You still have your clothes on,” she pointed out numbly, mind still stuck in the past. When Quinn opened her arms she leaned eagerly into the embrace, no longer caring that Quinn’s clothing was quickly soaking. “You’re going to be late for work.”

“I don’t care at all,” Quinn said, wrapping her arms firmly around Rachel’s back. “You’re more important. You’re also shaking. Is this - is this about last night?”

“No,” Rachel lied immediately, forehead against the solidness of Quinn’s collarbone. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Quinn very briefly released one arm to reach down and crank the water temperature up. “I’m sorry that I upset you; I didn’t mean to.”

Rachel raised a hand, unable to stop herself, and unbuttoned the rest of Quinn’s henley. Quinn leaned away just enough to see what Rachel was doing, tracking nimble fingers as they pried her shirt open, exposing her collarbone, upper chest, and the scar. Biting into her bottom lip Rachel traced the mark, knowing that it tickled Quinn in a distant, numb sort of way. The nerves had never fully recovered from the surgery that had saved her life. 

“Too close,” Rachel whispered, flattening her palm against Quinn’s chest just below the scar, against her heart. 

Quinn set her hand over Rachel’s, concerned and pressed down firmly, leaning down to rest her forehead against the crown of Rachel’s head. “What did you say?”

“I said I love you.”

“I love you, too. Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. I just realized that we’re going camping with Ryan and envisioned him burning down the entire campsite with lighter fluid attempting to make a ‘man fire’.”

Deciding to let that deflection go, Quinn squeezed Rachel’s hand and went with the topic change. “Man fire? You two are spending way too much time together.”

Rachel tucked herself in closer, only to wince at the feel of Quinn’s very sodden attire. “We should probably get out of here, or you should trade me places and get your shower in. You’re going to catch a cold before our grand adventure into the horrible outdoors if you stay in these wet clothes.”

Ignoring that, Quinn only cuddled Rachel closer with a snort. “It’s not going to be that bad, and I’m not cold. It’s practically boiling in here.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve not been ‘camping’ camping before. I’ve always stayed in a cabin on nicely groomed campgrounds before.” Rachel grumbled. She had plenty of fond memories of youth camp and being a camp counselor - none of which involved a tent. “My dads aren’t camping people and I have this thing about mosquitoes.”

“You have a thing about everything,” Quinn quipped and dipped to press a light kiss to Rachel’s hairline. “We’ll bring lots of Off and those mosquito repellent candles. I won’t let the tiny bloodsuckers get you.”

“Or the bears?” Rachel asked, mostly joking… mostly. She didn’t really know much about what sort of creatures inhabited the area outside the city. All she knew was that she watched the Discovery Channel and Animal Planet, and that made her a pseudo expert on dangerous furry things - the things with teeth and claws who also had an affinity for raiding tents and mauling campers. 

Quinn arched an eyebrow, even though Rachel couldn’t see it. “Bears?”

“There are bears here, Quinn. And what about the werewolves?”

“Werewolves?” Quinn groaned and swatted at Rachel’s backside. “Rachel Berry, you’re a fruitcake.”

“Just say yes,” Rachel pressed, hiding a smile. “It’s your own damn fault for making me watch all those horrible movies.”

“Fine,” Quinn agreed with a huff. “Yes, I will lay down my life protecting you from bugs, bears, werewolves, and any other fuzzy, harmless, or imaginary woodland creatures.”

It was meant to be funny, a shared lighthearted moment that Rachel desperately needed, but she felt her stomach clench at Quinn’s choice of words. She’d already tried to “lay down her life” and now Rachel couldn’t get the memory out of her head. It was still so vivid she could almost feel the stickiness of Quinn’s blood on her hands. She shuddered again and fisted Quinn’s shirt.

“Okay, that’s it. I think you might be getting cold. Come on, let’s get you out of the shower. I’ll make you some tea and call Ryan to let him know I’m going to be late.”

Rachel nodded, swallowing back protests about Quinn being late for work on her account. Turning the water off, she took her time leaving the foggy stall, whimpering lightly when Quinn disappeared around the curtain without her. She rushed forward after her, peeking out and watching Quinn snatch her towel off the rack to scrub over her head. Rachel couldn’t help smile at the familiar motion, feeling it grow when Quinn grinned over at her.

“Still here,” Quinn said, opening the towel wide. “I’ve got you, Superstar. Come on out.”

\---

She’d like to say that it made it all better, that having some more time with Quinn during their normally hectic morning had calmed her. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be true, because Quinn still had to leave and go to work. Go off to “save the world, one bad guy at a time” and Rachel couldn’t stop thinking about the “what ifs”. Not after the night before, not with the memories plaguing her. 

Quinn had nightmares. Night terrors. No matter how used to them Rachel was, she never would be used to seeing Quinn like that - nor would she ever be able to completely banish their shared nightmare over what had happened that night. It might fade over time, maybe, but it would never go completely away. 

It was always hard to let Quinn go, but it was especially difficult to let her out the door - out of sight - after a night like that. Rachel kept pulling her back, holding onto her, distracting Quinn as only she could. Clinging even as Quinn reluctantly pulled away with one last lingering kiss.

As soon as the front door closed Rachel retreated back to their bedroom and threw herself onto the crumpled blankets. Home base. She grabbed for Quinn’s pillow and hugged it to her chest, dipping her head to press her nose into the fabric for a deep inhale, the smell of Quinn’s citrusy shampoo a shallow comfort that she nevertheless wallowed in.

Closing her eyes, Rachel tried not to think about life without Quinn. About waking up mornings without Quinn curled protectively around her, standing guard even while unconscious. About not hearing that soft alto crooning in the kitchen as coffee was made, or echoing off the walls in the bathroom while Quinn showered. How life would be with no more phone calls or text messages throughout the day, and how there’d be no one to remind her to slow down and eat something. 

Quinn was everywhere and she could have been gone. Just like that. Gone. 

She had been that close - so close - to losing Quinn. The doctor hadn’t even sounded that hopeful when he told them they’d managed to “stabilize” her. Phrases like “touch and go” and “close observation” had stalked her throughout that first horrific night. Rachel had jerked awake more than once from nightmares all starring a long drawn out beep and flat line on the heart rate monitor, only to see the reality of the situation in a bed with honey colored hair splayed across a stark white pillow, tubes and wires running from her body, the rasp and hiss of a ventilator forcing Quinn to breathe.

Rachel shook her head, willing those thoughts away, and wiped her eyes on Quinn’s pillow as she snuggled it closer. Quinn was alive; she was alive and driving to work, and she’d be home later no doubt on the couch waiting up for her. Everything was fine. They were going camping and it was fine. She would have a full weekend - a precious amount of time given their lives - filled with Quinn. There would be smiles and laughter and Quinn would tease her about panicking over every snapped twig and buzz of mosquito wings. They had time.

Except… maybe they didn’t. Time didn’t slow down or stand still - not for anyone. Certainly not for them. It always felt like they were living on borrowed time. It was something Rachel loved, generally, that feeling of living in the moment, soaking up her time on stage, but she knew even that was limited. That too would eventually fade, and the stage, as much as it was a love of hers, would never be able to compare to Quinn. The idea of running out of time to be with Quinn... it scared her. So much. Especially when she considered how many times Quinn had nearly been taken from her. Early - it had to be early - because there was no way that she and Quinn were meant to have so short a time together; it just didn’t make sense, not with how many second chances they’d gotten. It was kind of a miracle that she’d run into Quinn that day in Barnes and Noble, and their chance encounter that could have ended them before they’d even begun. She could have said “no”, could have made an excuse and run from Quinn before she’d gotten the opportunity to really know her. All that time between high school and their meeting again... if that wasn’t some sort of ‘fate’ or the universe or God putting them back together again and again - and that was without adding all the incidents over the years, including before they were together, that had very nearly killed Quinn. Maybe she was just being dramatic and sappy, but now that she had her, she wanted Quinn forever, for as long as their forever would be.

“I’ve lost my mind,” Rachel stated to the empty room, thoughts swirling even more madly than before. 

And then, on the heels of that thought, she had an idea.

A really crazy idea.

There was no way she could let Quinn keep going to work without knowing that she was loved. Really, truly loved for however long their time together was. Without a reminder that Rachel was there for her to come back to. A reminder of commitment, because Rachel really needed Quinn to know that she wasn’t going anywhere and that Quinn had a concrete reason to keep coming back. Coming home. That was what she knew Quinn craved more than anything - she wanted to be loved.

“Oh my god,” Rachel squeaked, tossing the pillow to dive into the blankets. It took her a moment to locate her phone amidst the wreckage of sheets, and her hands shook as she dialed a familiar number from memory. Tapping her fingers to the beat of the ringback tone against her bare thigh, she tried to focus her sudden burst of nervous energy.

“Rachel?”

“Cam!” Rachel blurted, clasping the phone tighter to her ear. Cam was her “phone a friend” option, well, one of them, but something told her Ryan wouldn’t be very helpful at the moment. If she was making a wrong decision, or a right one for the wrong reasons, she knew Cam would steer her away from crazy town. She was oh so good at that.

“Rachel, you sound upset… is - oh God - is Quinn…?”

It wasn’t funny in the least, but very telling that Cam’s thoughts would automatically go there. Straight to “something happened to Quinn” because it was all of their defaults. Rachel did the same thing every time Ryan called. “Quinn’s fine, we’re fine,” Rachel hastened to assure her. “I was just thinking about borrowed time.”

“Uh?”

“Cam,” Rachel flopped back onto the bed and turned her head to examine the picture on her bedside table. Quinn’s bright grin greeted her from within the frame. Mind made up, she bit briefly into her bottom lip and then delivered her epiphany. “I want to ask Quinn to marry me.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Camille’s excited shriek forced Rachel to distance her sensitive ears from the phone, but she wasn’t quite fast enough to spare herself. “Wow, and people say I’m loud.”

“Rachel! Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack! This is so much better than… well, never mind about that. Yes, oh my god. I’ve been dying waiting for one of you to do this since I met you! What’s the plan? You have a plan, right? I always thought it would be Quinn!” Cam gushed and then squealed again.

Rachel now fully understood why Ryan had such a confused look on his face when she talked to him at a million words per second. “So I’m going to go ahead and assume that that means you’re okay with this idea? Squeal once for yes, twice for no.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop I swear. Yes, of course I’m okay with this idea. Now give me the details on your plan; it’s gotta be epic coming from you.”

“A plan,” Rachel repeated, eyes going wide. “A plan! Oh no, I need a plan! I can’t just… I got so excited and…”

“Don’t panic,” Cam ordered. “I can help, and we’ll get this all figured out. Do not panic. We need paper. I need paper. Oh my god, I’m so excited I can’t sit still. Do you know when you are going to ask?”

“We’re going camping this weekend,” Rachel mumbled, rolling her eyes. She was such an idiot sometimes. “I don’t - Cam, I don’t even have a ring. Do you… sisters talk about this stuff, right? Did she ever mention what sort of ring she might like? What if I get the wrong one? What if she hates it?”

“She’s not going to hate it. You could tie a string to her finger and she’d act like - I can’t think of a good example, but she’d love it. Just calm down, because there’s no way she’s going to hate anything that you give her. I don’t know what kind of cut she’d like, but I do know that Quinn likes simple.”

“Simple, like gardenias,” Rachel said, smiling at the memory. 

“What?”

“Never mind, long, old story. The important thing is that I can totally do this. Simple. Quinn likes simple. Got it.” Hell, Rachel thought, blowing her bangs up out of her eyes, can’t be any harder than the corsage, right?

“Hell yeah you can do this, sister,” Cam quipped back. Rachel heard drawers opening and closing through the line and cocked her head with an amused grin.

“Did you find some paper?” she asked, delighted by how excited her hopefully soon to be sister-in-law was. 

“Yup, and a purple crayon. We are in business.”

“You are going to have to email me all of this, but for now write this down…” Rachel kept one hand around Quinn’s pillow to keep herself grounded and raised her other to tick off her thoughts. “Number one, I need a, um, I need to figure out what to say… or I could sing and then propose?”

“I would say number one is find an engagement ring, but I’ll allow some spitballing,” Cam teased. “Are you wanting to go for the ‘down on one knee’ approach?”

“I’m not… that’s pretty traditional isn’t it? We’re not exactly the most traditional of couples, Cam.”

“Oh please, you two are like something out of a cheesy rom-com,” Cam snorted. “I think you’re confusing traditional with old fashioned or… whatever. Anyway, I suppose it depends on when and where you’re planning on doing this.”

“How did Sean propose?” Rachel asked, dodging the “when” question for just a little longer. She nuzzled back against Quinn’s pillow thoughtfully, trying to imagine herself popping the question. Her mind was full with all sorts of ideas, each one clamoring for her attention all at once. She’d always thought it would be Quinn, too, and she’d envisioned several different scenarios for that. Most of them admittedly extravagant, but she was a diva and they were her fantasies, therefore she was allowed to be as ridiculous as she wanted. But Quinn... Quinn wasn’t really into overly dramatic gestures. She preferred smaller things. Heartfelt things.

“Sean made a timeline,” Cam replied with a fond giggle. “I came home and he’d made a mess, but there was red yarn going from note-card to note-card, or sometimes a picture, and he’d written out the defining moments in our relationship. I followed it around and it eventually led back to our room and there he was, on his knee.”

“That’s so romantic,” Rachel sighed, bouncing her head on the mattress. “What do you think I should do? I don’t think I’m quite as creative as your husband.”

“Again, when are you going to ask?”

“I - well, I’m impulsive, you know, but I want to do it soon before I lose my nerve… Like maybe this weekend?”

Cam shrieked again and Rachel laughed even as she rubbed at her ringing ear. “Ow, Cammie, geez.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Cam squeaked, “I’m just so excited!”

“Well calm down, I need you to help me focus,” Rachel reminded her.

“Right, calming down. So you said you’re going to be camping? That could be romantic.”

“Romantic. Really?” Rachel scrunched up her nose and ran a hand through her hair. “With the bugs and the… the... nature?”

A warm chuckle floated across the line and Rachel pouted, despite the fact that Cam couldn’t see her. “Rachel, little princess, come on.”

“This may be a shock to hear, but I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type,” Rachel said, scowling at the ceiling. “I happen to be rather attached to my personal hygiene regimen, and I really dislike mosquitoes. West Nile Virus is a very real thing - as is Malaria!”

“I’m rolling my eyes at you right now, I just want you to know,” Cam said dryly. 

“Focus,” Rachel huffed. “I think I may have an idea.”

“Does it involve mosquitoes?”

“Cam!”

“Shutting up,” Cam giggled. “Okay, let’s hear this masterful idea, my purple crayon and I are ready!”


	4. Flashback

Quinn wasn’t sure what alternate reality it was that she’d fallen into, but she was pretty certain it was some sort of punishment. Perhaps it was karma getting back at her for the many sins she’d committed over the course of her life. Her head hadn’t stopped aching since that first fateful coffee meeting with Millie, her eyes were perpetually bloodshot, and sleep was something she fondly remembered as having enjoyed once.

And then there was the gaping, shredded hole in her life left by Rachel.

Tears welled up just at the thought of her name, something she’d been avoiding as much as possible. Quinn pressed her fingertips lightly to her eyes to try and stop them from allowing any other fugitives to escape down her flushed cheeks. She’d cried enough.

At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

She was so empty now - stuck replaying memories that were all she had left, stuck trying to find the moment where it all went wrong. When she’d fallen asleep it had been with Rachel in her arms, with “I love you” still echoing in her ears; she’d been so blissfully happy and completely unaware that her whole world was about to end. That the apocalypse was nigh. Even that morning she’d woken up and felt like, for once, things were going her way. It was all going to be alright. It would work out in the end. The whole mess with Millie… she could handle it - she could handle anything - because she had Rachel to help heal her. To be her little ray of sunshine guiding her through the storm.

Now she was gone. She’d left, just like everyone eventually did. 

And there was nothing now. She’d been abandoned again and now she was fumbling in the dark trying to hold herself together. Ryan was depending on her, Millie was depending on her, and she didn’t have time to fall apart like she wanted.

She was a little afraid that if she found that time she wouldn’t quite be able to put herself back together. Not fully.

“Quinn?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Quinn quickly ducked at the sound of her name, rushing to find a file to hide behind so she could wipe her eyes. “What?”

Ryan hedged his way further into her office, ignoring the ache in his chest when he saw her hiding from him. She may be able to fool some of the others, but he knew when she was crying and when she was trying to cover it up. Actually, he was kind of offended that she thought that little trick with the file would be enough for him to not see what was going on. He was an FBI Agent for God’s sake.

“Qball. Listen, we’re going out tonight...” he said, forcing some merriment into his tone.

Quinn couldn’t hold back the growl that passed her lips at his declaration. Going out with Ryan to watch him hit on girls and see all the other happy couples was not high on her to-do list, and she ground out a response to cut him off. “No, we’re not.”

“Yup, sorry, but we are. Stakeout duty has been shoved at us again,” he blatantly lied, right through his shiny white teeth.

“You’re joking,” Quinn hissed, dropping the folder and glaring over at him.

“Oh, how I wish I was,” he chuckled humorlessly, already envisioning the many ways she would kill him. The yelling part was going to be awe inspiring, he just knew it.

“Ryan, if I find out that this was one of your ill-conceived ‘cheer-up-Quinn’ schemes…” she warned, fingers digging noticeably into her desk.

Hiding a gulp of fear with a broad smile, he put a hand to his chest and gasped as though harmed by the mere suggestion. “That hurts, Quinn, you’ve hurt my feel bads. I would never attempt to cheer you up. That’s just mean spirited and gross. Ew.”

With a snort Quinn stood slowly, almost menacingly, from her desk and made a show of pulling her service pistol and badge from the top drawer. “Fine. Whatever. It’s your funeral.”

\---

It really didn’t take Quinn long to realize that she’d been had.

Ryan was acting stranger than usual and making even less sense somehow - which was frightening enough.

That was clue number one.

But when he pulled the car to a stop outside a bar…

They sat in silence for a very long, drawn out moment after he killed the engine. Quinn let him fidget and let him worry while she contemplated escape routes.

The easiest way would be to leave the car, flip him off as she went, and hail a cab, maybe to the airport. Maybe to fly away from it all and go back to DC. Maybe to anywhere that wasn’t here.

The more tempting option was to slap him, tear him apart verbally for being an insensitive prick, and then hail the cab. Maybe she’d fly to Hawaii. Hawaii was nice.

The hardest would be to stay. To stay and let him fumble his way though trying to help shoulder some of the weight crushing her. To go in and have a drink or two or five until the pain in her heart was drowned. It was also the scariest thing she’d thought of, because it sounded so good. Too damn good. She could lose herself in the promising sting of alcohol and for a brief time she would be able to deal. There would be crying, she knew that for sure, and she’d probably confess to Ryan like he was her priest, but then she’d be able to sleep. Be able to pass out on her empty bed and not lie there for hours thinking about how it still smelled like Rachel, about how if she closed her eyes she could, without much effort, imagine that little body balled up next to her. Sometimes if she was still enough she could even still feel her, the thump of her heart and the rhythm of her breath. Those adorable snorts as she snored, that silky skin, soft dark hair…

“My parents are drunks,” she uttered, jerking in surprise at what had fallen out of her mouth.

“I know,” Ryan replied, surprise coloring his tone as well. He smiled over at her sadly and she wanted to hate him for it. “I promise I’ll cut you off. I’m your battle buddy, Qball; I take that job seriously. I’d never let you do that to yourself.”

Shivering at the memories, at things locked deep down where they would stay, Quinn nodded shortly and forced herself out of the car. “I’m still furious with you,” she mentioned casually, curling her lip up at him. “And I’m going to get revenge. Bet on it.”

Ryan held up his hands in surrender, having already known his fate the moment he set this plan into motion, then pointed with both towards the door. “Fine. Just try not to mess up my face, ok? The ladies like the face.”

“That’s because there’s not much else for them to like,” Quinn replied with as much sugary sweetness as possible, fake honey practically dripping from the words.

“Nice,” Ryan huffed and pulled the door open for her with a gentlemanly flourish, only to nearly smack her in the face with it. “Oops, my bad.”

“I hate you,” Quinn sniffed, yanking the door from his hand to duck under his arm into the crowded bar. She took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar aroma - stale smoke that lingered, greasy food, spilt booze, and body odor. “Lovely.”

Ryan ushered her further in and she grudgingly allowed him to herd her with one of his hands pressed into her lower back, the other slightly in front of them to clear a path. They made it out onto the main floor and then…

Quinn’s traitorous heart leapt up into her throat at the sight of long dark hair. It could have been anyone, any other petite brunette perched there with perfect posture that came with nervousness. But she knew, she just knew.

That silken sable waterfall shimmered in the lighting as the woman stood, turning slowly to look back at them.

Rachel.

“Rachel?” Quinn said without meaning to, body angling forward, drawn like a magnet until the memories of their argument came rushing back, a warning that hit her like a slap to the face so harsh that she stumbled back into Ryan’s hand.

Rachel waved awkwardly, coffee colored eyes glimmering, her lips twitching in an almost smile. “Quinn.”

“You,” Quinn spat, whirling around to grab a fistful of Ryan’s shirt. “What is wrong with you? Have you lost what little mind you have?”

She had every intention of leaving, of running as far away as possible right that very second. She’d run until her legs couldn’t carry her, until she could barely breathe anymore. Then she’d hail a cab and she’d…

“Q, don’t run, just give her a chance,” Ryan pleaded, his grip strong around her biceps as he forced her to meet his eyes. “You owe it to yourself to see this through, even if it’s to the end. Don’t give up.”

“She left,” Quinn hissed, low enough for his ears only, eyes closed tight to keep from seeing that hopeful look on Rachel’s face. “Don’t make me do this. I can’t watch her walk away.” Again.

“She didn’t leave, Qball. She’s right there and she’s trying, ok? Talk to her, Quinn; use your words. You like your big words,” he teased lightly, drawing a glare in response. He smiled and used his head to gesture back towards the bar. “I will be right over there, ready to swoop in and be the big brother if I have to. I’m not leaving you, alright? But you have to try for me.” With that said, he turned her back around and gave her a light shove in Rachel’s direction.

Neither woman said anything as Ryan stepped away from them. They each simply stared, hurt and hopeful, hands in pockets or hanging useless at sides, eyes searching and tongues tied.

“Quinn,” Rachel finally said, her voice breathy like she’d run all the way to the bar. “Quinn, I’m so sorry.”

“You left,” Quinn managed, feeling like a broken record, but it was all she kept seeing. Rachel walking away.

“I came back,” Rachel argued, tentatively reaching for a pale hand, pleased when Quinn didn’t recoil from her touch. “I’m sorry, baby. I never should have left.”

“I told you to,” Quinn recalled, unconsciously moving closer. Not because she couldn’t stand being this close to Rachel without being close to Rachel. She couldn’t hear anyone else, see anyone else, even in the crowded bar. The whole world had shrunk down to just them. Always just the two of them.

“And I should have ignored you,” Rachel admitted, smiling softly as she grabbed for Quinn’s other hand. “I never feel like I deserve you, like I’m good enough for someone as special as you, or that I’ve earned your feelings for me. When you told me to leave… it was like an ‘I told you so’ from the universe. From inside my own head.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Quinn whispered. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean to push you away and keep you in the dark. I know I made you feel insecure about us and that’s… I’m sorry. I was mad and hurt but I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I never wanted that.” She stared down at their hands and squeezed, the familiar sensation swamping her precarious control over her tears.

“I shouldn’t have let myself doubt you like that, or let my fears get the better of me. I’m so embarrassed at what I said.” Rachel stopped inching forward, the tips of her shoes against Quinn’s, and looked up at her from under her eyelashes.

“Me, too. I was... I was going to talk to you - about Millie - but it’s been hard. I needed - I still need - some time to deal with it first. I gave her my word that I’d keep it to myself,” Quinn explained, watching Rachel closely for her reaction and waiting for the anger to resurface. “I hate the secrets; it kills me not to be able to confide in you, and I know it makes it hard to trust me, but I just... I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Rachel said firmly, thumbs swirling against Quinn’s hands. “I do. I trust you. I always have, with all of me. With everything.”

That was all Quinn needed, and everything she’d been desperately wanting to hear. She pulled her hands free from Rachel’s loose grasp and opened her arms, cautiously waiting to see what Rachel’s choice would be.

Rachel reacted instantly, choking back a sob she launched herself into those open arms, throwing her own around Quinn’s neck and clinging to her fiercely.

Quinn sighed, tears getting stuck in the back of her throat as she clutched Rachel to her just as fervently. It was going to be ok.

At the bar Ryan was nodding to himself somewhat smugly, and raised his fist to bump with someone, only to realize he was alone and staring at his friends having a rather private moment in a stalkerish manner. “I need a sidekick,” he muttered to himself, twisting back to try and get the bartender’s attention.

When Rachel could finally pry herself away from Quinn she dropped back and wiped at her eyes, then grinned, laughing through her tears. “I, um, I might have something for you, something special. A true ‘Rachel Berry gift slash apology’. An apology gift.”

Quinn didn’t even bother with trying to clear her face, she just smiled back and quirked an eyebrow. “‘I’m Sorry’ cookies? I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to bring your own food into bars.”

Shaking her head, Rachel took Quinn’s hands again and started to pull her deeper in to the bar, towards the small stage set up in one of the corners. “No, baby, it’s way better than cookies.”

“That, I’m pretty sure, would get us arrested,” Quinn said, eyes going wide as she glanced around the crowded bar.

“Not that,” Rachel laughed, impulsively leaning in to kiss Quinn’s cheek. “That, as you so articulately referred to it as, is happening later. If - if you want.” Suddenly shy and unsure of herself, Rachel retreated with a blush and bit her bottom lip.

“I want,” Quinn told her, gentle fingers lifting Rachel’s quivering chin, hazel eyes locking onto worried brown. “Rachel, I want. Badly. I missed you.”

“I can’t sleep without you anymore,” Rachel confessed, her full attention on the small, loving smile that now graced Quinn’s lips.

“I don’t want to sleep without you ever again,” Quinn replied just as earnestly as she used the light pressure of her fingers to tilt Rachel’s head back and then stooped to kiss her. It was sweet, if short, and more than enough to erase any lingering doubt or worry. It - in one simple act - sealed over the cracks left behind with the promise of a future. Rachel whined softly when Quinn pulled away, her eyes still closed as she held on to the sensation a second longer. When her eyelids slowly lifted they found Quinn watching her with such a lovesick expression it made her knees wobble.

“Sit down, Q,” she husked once she found her voice again.

Quinn reluctantly pulled away with a pout, curious as to what Rachel had in store for her. Willingly taking a seat at the nearest table, she barely noticed that Ryan joined her. She’d thank him later; Rachel was the only one she wanted to concentrate on right now.

Rachel sucked in another deep breath, feeling lighter than a feather as she lept onto the stage with the ease only found in a true performer. Taking the microphone from the stand, she beamed out at the crowd that was mostly ignoring her.

“This is for Quinn,” she announced and then lowered her hand, staring at Quinn while she waited for the music to start.

This time they were going to get it right.


	5. Present

Ryan didn’t know what it was that was different about Quinn when she walked into the office, or rather what it was that had put the extra spring in her step, but his senses were immediately on high alert. She had that dopey, dreamy expression on her face, and that generally meant Rachel had done something. It also meant that he would have fresh fodder to tease her about, and he really enjoyed making Quinn blush.

Of course she went and ruined it by telling him that Rachel had simply said “yes” to their camping adventure. There wasn’t anything he could tease her about with that, though it did put him in a pretty good mood. Still, he couldn’t let her get away without making some sort of comment, so he went out on a limb and teased her about “getting some” and using her feminine wiles to get Rachel to agree. 

He’d had his fun and then she’d, ever the responsible one, told him to shut up and do some sort of work. 

Which is how he found himself to be sitting in front of her desk watching her do paperwork while he spent his time pretending to be doing the same while mostly trying to plan their weekend away.

“Oh, and did I mention that Allison is picking up ribs?” he asked, not caring that it was abrupt for him to do so. If he could jar her enough Quinn would be duped, again, into talking to him about camping, and that was way more fun than paperwork. Or pretending to do paperwork. His ploy worked; Quinn’s head shot up and he waggled his eyebrows at her. As a fellow carnivore, and one who was unfortunately eating more vegan non-food to please her girlfriend, he knew she’d appreciate his “famous” ribs. 

“I love you,” Quinn whispered, and he thought he saw the shine of some drool appear at the corner of her mouth. “God, I just really love you sometimes.”

Smirking, quite smugly if he did say so himself, Ryan dropped his drawings of oddly shaped race cars onto the floor and folded his hands behind his head, perfectly content to bask in her love of his barbecue skills. Well, that is until a thought hit him. 

“Wait… can you have ribs, Quinn? And what the hell is Rachel going to eat? Shit, am I going to get in trouble for having wonderful, tasty, slaughtered animal?” Ryan gasped, looking around the room for Rachel to pop up like some sort of phantom to drag him screaming from the room for even suggesting meat. “You know, I find it really interesting that she’s all “save the animals” and yet apparently hates nature with a burning, fiery passion.”

“Don’t you dare even think about bring that up with her,” Quinn warned, shaking a finger at him. “At the most she’ll probably lecture us, and that’s it. You leave her alone about everything else. I mean it. She’s going to have fun, and if you keep your mouth shut there’s a chance we might get to do this more regularly. If I can talk her off the stage again, that is.”

“How does it feel to be the mistress of a Broadway addict?” Ryan asked, dodging the paper ball Quinn hurled at him in response. “Anyway, burning question: What is she going to eat? Carrot sticks?” He had already planned out his own camping “menu” for the trip, and it didn’t include vegetables. Only the four food groups allowed. Starch, grease, dead animal, and ketchup. Thankfully Allison, while prone to eating salads and steamed veggies with her meals, also loved a good steak or the occasional hot dog at games.

“We’re going after work to get her some vegan safe foods, and you are going to be nice and try whatever she wants you to. I don’t care if you spit it out when she’s not looking, but you’re going to take a Ryan size bite out of whatever she hands you,” Quinn ordered with that stupid, love-sick look again before she bent back over her papers.

“You know, we could go at lunch and get our stuff now… then we could escape the city early,” he suggested hopefully, only to be shot down immediately.

“No.” Quinn stated firmly, trying not to smile when Ryan widened those big baby blues of his into devastating puppy eyes. “No, we’re not doing that. I’m supposed to get lunch with Rachel and you’re not invited. I might not even be able to do that if we don’t get all of this casework done,” she sighed.

He was about to try a different tactic to get her to agree with his genius plan when his phone started loudly blaring “Dirty Dancer” from his jacket pocket. Slightly surprised at the caller, Ryan raised an eyebrow and rescued his phone while Quinn snorted at his flailing and gave him that look - the one she reserved for when she thought he was being a pig.

“Very Special Agent Peterson,” Ryan chirped, highly amused that Quinn didn’t know who he was speaking to. She’d kill him if she did, but she didn’t, so she just rolled her eyes at him and turned to her computer monitor. 

“Ryan, it’s Rachel, don’t say my name if Quinn’s there!” Rachel cried. 

“Hi… Mom?” Ryan said and stood from his chair. He ignored Quinn’s “what the actual fuck” expression and hastily retreated from her office. “Okay, we’re in the clear. I take it that you didn’t hit my speed-dial number by mistake.”

“You’re not on my - do people actually even use speed-dial?”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes and put on his best offended tone, knowing she’d pick up on it. “I’m not on your speed-dial? How rude! That’s like unfriending someone on Facebook rude.”

“How is that eve… no, nope, I’m not getting dragged into one of your ridiculous arguments. No. However, for our official non-official record, I don’t use speed-dial, I have your number memorized.”

“Well I feel a little, tiny bit better now. Sort of. Do I at least have my own ringtone? Is it “Sexy Back”? I bet it’s “Sexy Back”. You have your own very special, carefully chosen ringtone, you know. Because I love you, that much.”

“Yes, Ryan, you have your own ringtone,” Rachel muttered, and he knew, without any doubt, that she’d just rolled her eyes at him. A trait she’d no doubt picked up from Quinn. “It’s actually “My Own Worst Enemy.”

It took him a minute to remember the song, and then some of the lyrics. When he finally had a grasp on the fuzzy memory he was torn between righteous indignation and finding someone to high five. “Good choice,” he finally begrudged, seeing as nobody was around to high five him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied cheerfully, grinning to himself.

“… Damn it, how do you do that?” she growled a moment later. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I need your help.”

That immediately killed his buzz, he blinked and leaned back against the wall, pressing the phone closer to his ear. A million thoughts blasted him. Most dealing with various ways he could get Rachel out of trouble without alerting Quinn to the problem. If Rachel wasn’t calling Quinn for assistance it meant he couldn’t tell Quinn and that was a whole nother level of “nightmare”. Especially if Quinn found out about it. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Did you get arrested?”

“What? No, Ryan!”

“It’s a legitimate question!” Ryan pouted, then brightened as he spied Schulte approaching with a plate of doughnuts. He quickly snagged one as the younger agent tried to pass him and keep the treats out of Ryan’s reach. Conrad acted like he might try and steal it back so Ryan quickly licked it. 

Grimacing, Conrad shuffled off, leaving Ryan with his prize. He stuffed half of the sugary pastry into his mouth, eyes rolling back in bliss, and then remembered that Rachel was on the phone. “What’s the matter?” he repeated around his mouthful. He knew it couldn’t be anything horribly serious; she sounded fine, and hadn’t called Quinn first. All mostly good signs.

“Could you please swallow whatever food you just shoved in your mouth and try that last sentence again?”

“What’s going on, my little Tadpole?” he asked, carefully over-enunciating every word. He smiled when Rachel snickered, as always secretly loving their bromance. 

“Nothing’s wrong, really, I’ve been thinking about - about that night.”

Ryan stiffened, all levity leaving him in a flash as memories swamped him. “She’s okay, Rachel. She’s as boring as ever, sitting at her desk probably wondering where I’ve run off to. No danger today, unless it’s from a paper cut,” he promised. After Quinn had been shot there’d been rare times that Rachel would call, needing reassurance that Quinn was okay, and Ryan was more than happy to give that to her. 

Rachel took a deep breath, loud enough that he could hear it. Her voice wobbled as she spoke again. “She had another nightmare last night and… I’ve been thinking about borrowed time this morning. I don’t - I don’t like this feeling that she and I aren’t, I don’t know how to explain this to you. Can you just come get me, please?”

“You want me to come get you, as in pick you up? Where are we going? You’re not leaving her, are you?” He asked, utterly confused, and more than a little shocked. He was more than willing to be a shoulder for her to cry on, or to lend her an ear if she needed it, but there were some things that he wouldn’t do. Not that he really thought Rachel would ever leave Quinn, not after what they’d been through and the things he’d seen between them at the hospital. No, Rachel was devoted to Quinn, but still she wasn’t making sense.

“No, of course not. Never. That’s the opposite of what I’m doing. Ryan, what I’m asking - would you do me the honor of being my wingman this afternoon? I’d like your help in choosing an engagement ring.”

Ryan’s breath all left him in a whoosh and he threw the doughnut onto the nearest desk, all but falling over his own feet rushing towards his own desk to find his keys. “Holy shitballs! I’ll be there in fifteen!”

\---

“Out of curiosity, how exactly did you two manage to get time off, at the same time, for this excursion?” Rachel asked from the passenger seat of Ryan’s car. They were both nervous, which normally would have made her giggle because why Ryan was so anxious was beyond her, but it made for a tense atmosphere in the car and she was sick of fidgeting in silence. 

“We sold our souls,” Ryan joked, carefully tousling his hair in the rearview mirror - because “messy” didn’t happen by accident.

Rachel shot him an incredulous look and smacked the rearview mirror sideways so he couldn’t see anymore. He was honestly worse than any girl she’d ever met - including Quinn and Santana who always seemed to be glued to the mirror at every opportunity. 

“We traded our on-call weekends with Schulte and Amato,” Ryan sighed, patiently fixing the mirror and finally refocusing on the road as traffic crawled forward again. “Why are we driving? You suck at planning. This is awful. Christ there’s cops everywhere. It’s like shark alley in here and we’re the damned seal pups.”

Pleased with his metaphor he turned to see if Rachel was impressed, only to nearly swallow his tongue when he saw big teary brown eyes and a scarily trembling bottom lip.

“Those poor baby seals!” she cried. “They’re so cute and defenseless against the sharks!”

Right, so that’s why Quinn said Rachel’s not allowed to watch animal shows and I’m never supposed to bring them up, Ryan thought, fighting the urge to smack himself in the forehead. Of course there was a chance Rachel could be playing him. She was an actress after all. He snuck another look and found her still all pouty and sad. He couldn’t exactly say that shark babies were just as cute and needed to eat too. “Sorry, Rach; I’ll stop trying to be all clever and metaphorical. Promise.”

To get her mind off of teeth and dead seal babies he punched on the radio, knowing that music really was the best distraction for a Rachel Berry fit.

“Stuck like Glue” was on.

They both exploded into action, hands slapping frantically at the buttons.

Finally, the music cut out, the sudden silence weighted with bad energy.

“Is there something in the air?” Rachel shouted suddenly, glaring at the radio, one hand at the base of her throat. Ryan wondered if she was trying to keep her heart from leaping out of her mouth, because it definitely felt like that was what his was trying to do.

Keeping an eye on the sluggish traffic, Ryan reached over for Rachel’s hand, pulling it away from her neck and holding it gently in his. “Hey, Tadpole?”

“What?” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

“You’re going to ask Quinn to marry you,” he reminded, grinning when she stopped squeezing her nose and a smile started to tug at her lips.

“I’m going to ask Quinn to marry me,” she repeated and then slouched back into her seat. “Ryan, I’m going to ask Quinn Fabray to marry me. Me, Rachel Berry.”

“She’s going to say “yes”, too,” Ryan continued, turning the music back on and flipping the station, volume down low. “And then you two are going to drive me insane with all the mushy, lovey, girly feelings stuff and steal my girlfriend away to help plan said nuptials.”

Rachel’s eyes widened comically and she dove for her feet where her purse was sitting, throwing things around the deep bag. He wondered if it was some sort of magical bag, like Mary Poppins, as it looked like her entire upper body disappeared into it. She popped back up a second later with her cell phone. “I forgot to tell Allison!”

“To be honest I’m shocked, though very flattered, that you didn’t want her to be the one to go with you for this,” he admitted, watching her fingers fly as she tapped out a text. 

“I may have had ulterior motives in asking you,” Rachel confessed, and dropped her phone back into the bottomless pit of her purse. “You are kind of like a mutual big brother for us, but you’re also - you’re Quinn’s partner and her best friend and… you’re the closest I can get to “fatherly” permission.”

Ryan nearly drove the car up onto the curb. “Are you asking me?”

“Ryan, I love your partner very much and I’d like your blessing to ask her to be my partner,” Rachel said softly, nervously chewing on her lip as she waited for his reaction. He really was the only man Quinn spent time around and she knew that he would likely be the one walking Quinn down the aisle. It only seemed prudent to ask him - even though she thought she already knew the answer.

“You know, Rachel,” Ryan started slowly, working through his words carefully, voice a little rougher than usual. “Quinn’s been my girl from the moment I laid eyes on her and she insulted me. It took me a long time to earn her trust enough to be let inside those walls of hers and I would do anything to protect her. She’s special, really special, and I didn’t think anyone could be good enough for her. But then you came along and… God, with you she lights up. She’s different now; she’s somehow whole in a way she wasn’t before, and every time I see that I take a moment and thank the universe for you. Of course you have my blessing, a million times over.”

Rachel tightened her grip on his fingers, fighting back tears at his gruffly whispered words. “I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

“Wait,” Ryan frowned, scaring the daylights out of Rachel as he turned to face her fully - acceptable for the moment because they were at a red light. “I didn’t do that right, sorry. Can I get another take? I need to get more in touch with my Daddy side.”

“Your Daddy side? Since when are you a Daddy? Wait. No, I don’t want to know,” Rachel backtracked, relieved that it was just Ryan with his usual Ryan-ness and not him having second thoughts. “Would you like me to say “action”?”

“Don’t be a smartass, smartass. I’m trying to give you the full experience,” Ryan growled, untangling his hand from hers. “I’m ready.”

“Action,” Rachel said and, ever the actress, put on her best pleading, hopeful look.

“I just have one thing to say before I agree to let you marry Quinn,” Ryan said sternly, wagging his finger at her. “You better take care of my little girl. She’s the only one I’ve got and if I ever hear a word of you mistreating her - hell, if you make her unhappy for leaving the toilet seat up - I’ll make you wish you’d never been born, you got me?”

Widening her eyes appropriately, Rachel put both hands over her heart. “Sir, I would never hurt Quinn. Never. She is everything to me - my whole world - and I promise you I will always love, cherish and protect her. I won’t let you down.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, but then a grin started to creep across his features and his blue eyes sparked once more with playful mirth. “I believe you. You have my permission to ask my girl to marry you.”

“Thank you,” Rachel breathed and then lunged across the cab of the car to hug him tightly, only pulling back when a chorus of car horns sounded behind them. “The light is green.”

“So it is,” Ryan said and winked roguishly at her. 

\---

“Well, aren’t you two just adorable!” The sales lady greeted before the door chime even stopped, ushering Rachel and Ryan in with an arm around both their waists. Rachel quickly shot Ryan a partially frightened look which he matched with one of his own. 

Ryan wasn’t even the one getting engaged, but after the first two stops running away was looking better and better. 

“What are you two looking at?” enthusiastic-must-be-working-on-commission lady asked them, practically floating behind the counters with a giant grin.

Rachel glanced down at her nametag and timidly smiled back at “Cat”, wondering absently how many cups of coffee Cat must have consumed. “Engagement rings?”

“I thought so,” Cat chirped, spreading her hands out to indicate the vast selection. “Do you have an idea of what you’d like?”

“An escape hatch and a bottle of Jameson,” Ryan muttered, wincing a smile when Rachel stomped on his toes with a fake trill of a laugh.

“Ryan, you are awful at this,” she hissed through her teeth, still smiling politely at their helper. 

“I’m a man, Rachel,” Ryan whined, eyes going wider as Cat hummed to herself and started to pull out a few selections. The diamonds alone were making him queasy enough… and then he imagined the price tags. “This is like Defcon Holy Shit, okay? I’m going to pass out.”

“I can’t believe you! You’re a Marine; where’s all that Semper Fi stuff?” Rachel asked, digging her elbow into his ribs. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking away from all the glittery, pretty, expensive diamonds that were winking at him. “Give me a second.”

Rolling her eyes, Rachel beamed at the curious and obviously eavesdropping Cat. “These are all very lovely. What do you think, Ryan? Solitaire? Side stones?”

“Are you going to ask me that at every store?” Ryan asked, mostly wondering that to himself. He grunted when Rachel’s sharp elbow hit him again and then sighed, shrugging as he squinted down, trying to picture each ring on Quinn’s finger. “Um?”

“What did you have in mind, my dear?” Cat asked politely. 

“Something simple but… elegant,” Rachel said, pursing her lips as she perused the choices laid out before her. They were all beautiful, just like all the others she’d seen. She was waiting for that one that would immediately feel right to her, and so far she hadn’t found it.

“Might I suggest this one?” Cat picked up one of the rings and held it out for Rachel. “It has a touch of glamour to it.”

Rachel carefully plucked the ring up, holding it close as she examined it. Fairly simple with one round diamond and two pear shaped, smaller diamonds hugging the sides. Almost like leaves. The longer Rachel held it and looked at it, the more she wanted it. But she wanted to be thorough, and she hadn’t even glanced at the others yet, so she kept hold of it as she peered at the others. None of them caught her eye. She didn’t want to be impulsive, not with such a big decision, but she also wanted to go with her intuition. The dainty ring in her palm was it, she just knew. 

Ryan finally snapped out of his sticker shock stupor and pulled Rachel’s hand around to get a look at the “glamorous” ring. “Rachel, it’s that one. I know I haven’t looked at the others and we have more places we could go, but, that’s the one,” he said, bravely touching his fingers to the tiny piece of jewelry. 

A genuine smile lit up Rachel’s features at his agreement - if that wasn’t a solid “yes” she didn’t know what other sign she could need - she turned back to Cat, bouncing a little as unreal excitement surged. 

“Congratulations!” Cat enthused, clapping her hands together with that fake smile on her face. “And we can keep it here in the store, if you’d like, until you’re ready to propose.”

Ryan, who up until then had been watching Rachel freak out, felt all the blood drain out of his face at the implication. “I - no. Oh, no. No. Nope. Wrong dude, lady. I’m not - she’s - we’re not...”

“I’ll be taking the ring with me,” Rachel said, blissfully unaware of the confused look on Cat’s face. “Quinn’s going to be so surprised.”

“It’ll be the one time you actually manage that,” Ryan told her, now actively avoiding looking at Cat lest she use her voodoo powers of persuasion and convince him to buy a ring for his girlfriend.

“It’s a new world, sometimes I forget,” Cat said, game face still on though less dazzling. “Would you like to look at some more masculine engagement rings?”

“Masculine?” Rachel asked, happy smile slipping slightly in her confusion. “No, I don’t think Quinn would appreciate... oh! Quinn’s a woman! I know, I know, not a name you hear a lot and especially for a woman, but my soon to be fiance is very much a woman. She’s quite girly, actually - head cheerleader, sundresses, ‘thinks the sidewalk is a runway’ type.”

Ryan’s fear of being sucked into buying a ring vanished in the face of Cat’s wide eyed look. Rachel continued talking, mostly to herself, about Quinn and Cat just stared at him. He wondered if she was trying to figure out if she’d just botched the sale by offending Rachel, or was just shocked by Rachel being Rachel. She didn’t seem the type to be judgemental, but he was definitely enjoying seeing her freaked out instead of him. Ha, take that voodoo lady!

Meanwhile, Rachel’s rant seemed to be winding down... or she just finally needed a breath. She paused, all starry eyed and giggly and beamed up at him and then at the still bewildered Cat. Ryan thought he might have to hold on to her to keep her from floating off the planet.

“I’m getting engaged!”


	6. Flashback

In many ways it wasn’t different for Rachel; she was used to being on stage, used to seeing a bunch of strangers staring at her. What was different this time were her motives. She wasn’t singing for a crowd of Broadway fans, and she didn’t have to worry about lines and marks and what song was coming up. This time it was more like she was back in the choir room at McKinley, or maybe in the auditorium on her own, getting ready to sing something she’d specifically chosen for the sheer point of expressing herself.

Except instead of Finn being the cause, or the sole recipient, she was singing to the pretty blonde cheerleader. It wasn’t his goofy, boyish smile she was looking at but Quinn’s shy, guarded half-smile.

She wasn’t going to sing a breakup song, or some pop hit she’d heard on the radio that seemed to fit in perfectly with her teenage angst. It wasn’t a song about the love she wished to have. No, it was a song to a love she did have, someone she’d injured and needed to apologize to. She had to tell Quinn how she felt about them, and sometimes, to her, the best way to do that was to put it to music. She may not be the best at talking, as she’d demonstrated so well, but singing - she could borrow the words of an artist, imbue them with her own feelings and from that clearly communicate. It was a gift some said, talent others called it, and Rachel liked to agree most of the time, but occasionally... occasionally it felt more like a curse. If only she was able to simply “say” things, then maybe she wouldn’t have to put it into a song to be understood.

Still, this was something she had to do - absolutely. She had to let Quinn know and this was the only way she knew how.

Holding the microphone securely in her hand she smiled out at the room, noting that most of the bar patrons were actively ignoring her. To them she was just another woman who’d found enough courage in her beverage of choice to climb the stage and wail an old Pat Benatar song woefully out of tune. 

If only they knew.

“Stuck Like Glue” started to play and Quinn’s smile started to stretch into that grin that Rachel had so missed the past days. Starting to sway happily, Rachel hit her cue flawlessly, like the professional she was.

Ryan hooted and whistled, like the instigator he was, and Quinn blushed, ducking her head away from Rachel’s stare. As the song continued Ryan pried loose his cell phone, waving it back and forth like she was singing some power ballad instead of an upbeat country song he’d probably never heard before. Quinn laughed, looking somewhat surprised by the sound, and then laughed again doing a small dance in her chair, dragging Ryan along with her.

The tension that Rachel had been feeling began to dissipate as she got more into her performance, stepping gracefully from the stage to shimmy closer to Quinn. Gently, without fear, she reached out and touched Quinn’s face, tapping her on the nose playfully before sauntering back to the stage, sidestepping Ryan’s swat as she went. Whirling around she pointed right at Quinn and sang “stuck on you” with a saucy wink.

Caught up in the moment, she missed the heated glower being directed at her from the back of the room.

\---

Collin Curtis had been following Rachel’s work for months, ever since that first fateful night at the theater. Since the first time he’d heard that angelic voice fall from Rachel’s lips.

He was hooked on her.

They’d shared a brief but magical moment. She’d looked right at him - at him - in a sea of full chairs and sang right to him. He knew in that moment that he loved her.

He’d gotten her autograph that night, and every night after that he read the words she’d scrawled on his playbill before he fell asleep. The next time he’d seen her show she’d taken a picture with him and it now sat in a frame on his bedside table, where she could be the first thing he saw in the morning. His angel.

She was playing coy, he knew, and he loved her enough to play her silly game. This game where she wanted him to chase her and act like they weren’t in love. Women like her wanted to feel special enough to be chased; he’d seen it countless times in the movies. 

So they played.

He worried about her, though, being away from him where anything could happen to her. Collin knew it was his job to protect her, to keep her safe even from afar while she continued her game. He followed her when he could, made sure that nobody got too close, kept an eye out for photographers and suitors who were too stupid to know she was taken.

Collin loved her, so he did this for her without her asking for it. He knew she’d appreciate it.

The pistol he carried in the back of his pants, that was for her, too. Just in case. He had hoped he’d never have to use it, prayed for her safety - but he was strong enough to use it if he had to. Anything to keep her safe.

He’d seen the tall man he called “Charger” go into Rachel’s apartment earlier and hadn’t worried about it. He knew Charger was just a friend, having seen them and the blonde woman he simply called “Looker” eat lunch together a few times. It wasn’t a surprise to see Charger and Looker show up at the bar where Rachel was. Still, he was a little annoyed; he’d hoped to try and end their game by gallantly bringing his love the vodka tonics she favored. They’d talk and he’d tell her something romantic and they’d stop playing. She would be his then, forever.

Because he loved her.

What was a surprise was the way Rachel and Looker had embraced after what looked like a very intense conversation. One that had raised his hackles. Nobody talked to his angel like that, made her pretty eyes sparkle with tears. He’d been about ready to march over and tell Looker to get lost, maybe ask Charger to help him, but then they’d embraced and something much worse had occurred to him.

He couldn’t follow Rachel all the time, and she was gone a lot, not at her apartment much, or at least he didn’t see her there often. It was hard for him to keep an eye on her with her busy schedule and he couldn’t quit work to play their game of hide and seek all over the city.

Collin hadn’t thought that she might be staying somewhere else, and he definitely didn’t think she’d been staying with Looker.

Then Rachel had kissed Looker, and not in an overly-friendly weird friendship-type way. It wasn’t “kiss-kiss” on the cheek.

His heart sank down, landing heavy in his stomach like a stone to the bottom of a pond, as Rachel took the stage and killed all of his hopes and dreams when she announced to the entire bar that the song she was about to sing was for “Quinn”.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place and left him sitting there heartbroken, betrayed. Alone.

Anger came after, hot and crazy, and made his face and eyes burn. He couldn’t believe she’d do this to him! They could have been perfect; they were perfect.

Reaching back under his shirt, he felt the handle of the pistol and wrapped his fingers around it. His first thought to remove his competition. If he took care of “Quinn” then Rachel would be free to love him the way he knew she did. Maybe this Quinn woman had brainwashed her somehow, or threatened her. Yes, that was plausible. Quinn had threatened Rachel, told her something awful to keep her from him.

But as Rachel started to sing to that horrible blonde bitch Collin saw the look in her eyes, even from the bar. He could see how happy she was, how heartfelt, how earnest the almost pleading words spilling from her golden throat were.

Collin saw that it wasn’t a threat keeping Rachel from him. He’d waited too long or done something wrong and Rachel had chosen someone else.

The idea of her doing that to him, of her being with that woman, it burned him so badly he could barely see straight.

She wasn’t an angel, she was a devil. She’d played him for a fool.

In a moment of clarity he knew what he had to do.

\---

Thoroughly caught up in the music and the happy spark in Quinn’s eyes, Rachel didn’t notice her would-be, wanna-be, Prince Charming in the background. Didn’t see him stand or pull the pawn shop revolver out and point it in her direction.

She’d never been particularly observant, but even she couldn’t miss the shriek of terror from the back of the room. Even if it was only out of annoyance at the rude person disrupting her touching moment. She stopped singing, however, when she heard “Oh my God!” and “Gun!” and snapped her attention to the commotion at the back of the room, zeroing in on the man standing there, looking at her.

At the back of her mind a small voice reminded her that she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t quite place where and her focus was more sharply fixated on the shiny barrel of that revolver.

What came next happened in seconds.

She took an instinctive step away from the man and his gun, calling out for Quinn. More people were paying attention now, and the shouting and rush of the crowd took on a more hysteric note.

Quinn, she saw, was up and moving, rushing to put herself between Rachel and the threat, reaching for her service pistol as she darted forward. Simultaneously Ryan was rushing the bar, trying to stay out of the way and fighting through the fleeing patrons with no apologies for his rough handling.

Rachel dropped the mike when the boom sounded, unable to even shriek in fear as she froze, mouth open, gaping at the scene unfolding. In front of her Quinn had turned, pistol drawn, and she jerked and stumbled, her body twisting unnaturally and legs tangling in a chair before she toppled onto a table, flipping it and scattering people.

There was no scream, no grunt, no sound of impact from the bullet striking its unintended target. Right before Rachel’s eyes Quinn had fallen, almost in slow motion.

An absurd silence descended, broken only by the music somehow still playing cheerfully on. Rachel could hear her own heartbeat and the gurgle of a scream that had gotten stuck in her chest. Everyone was still, like a freeze frame out of a horror movie, staring at the gasping blonde woman on the floor, red already blossoming on her chest. Then someone managed to produce the scream Rachel was choking on, and the world un-paused.

Ryan hit the gunman with as much force as he could generate, ramming the smaller man back into the bar top and driving his fist hard into the bastard’s face. He knew the gun had gone off; his ears were still ringing and he could smell it, but he was telling himself that it missed even though he knew that was impossible. Not with so many bodies in the bar packed in as easy targets, literally like fish in a barrel. Then he heard Rachel, her voice unmistakable, screaming for help and he knew it was Quinn without looking. Fury swept over him and he gave himself to it willingly. He nearly went blind with it as he lashed out again and again, pounding his knuckles into the guys face before lifting him up to slam him onto the bar top, continuing his assault until the body under his hands went limp and the gun clattered onto the dirty linoleum floor. Panting and growling like the enraged animal he had become, he risked looking back and nearly threw up when he saw little Rachel crouched next to Quinn.

Rachel didn’t see what happened at the bar, didn’t care at this point - all she could see was Quinn. She dropped to her knees and held her hands up helplessly, afraid to touch, afraid not to touch. Quinn was panting harshly, eyes wide and leaking tears as she stared up at the ceiling. “Quinn?”

Blood wasn’t gushing, or pouring, nor bubbling up from the hole in her shoulder. It was oozing steadily, saturating her shirt, pooling in the hollow of her pale throat, and flowing freely down onto the floor to puddle beneath them.

“What do - what do I do? I don’t - Quinn?” Rachel struggled and fought to drag Quinn’s upper body onto her lap, to cradle her off the hard floor. She set her hand against Quinn’s shoulder, just like she’d seen them do in the movies. Pressure, right? She was supposed to apply pressure.

Quinn cried out sharply when Rachel pushed down, pain-hazy eyes focusing up on Rachel’s face.

“Some - somebody help!” Rachel looked away from Quinn’s ashen features and frantically tried to locate Ryan in the crowd. She finally sighted him, handcuffing the now unconscious and bloodied man who’d shot Quinn. He had shot Quinn and now she was... “Help me!”

“Ra - ch,” Quinn stuttered, then choked, wetly coughing up a mouthful of blood. She knew, somewhere in her fuzzy mind, that she’d been shot and that blood in her mouth was a bad sign. Collapsed lung, she thought fleetingly, but she couldn’t hang on to the thought long enough to tell Rachel even if she’d been able to get her mouth to form the words.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Rachel said, sobbing pitifully as she tried to put more of her weight behind the hand against Quinn’s chest. She cupped Quinn’s cheek with her free hand, stroking the soft skin to try and comfort. “Please, Quinn, just - hang on. You’re going to be fine. They’re going to - to call 9-1-1 and you’re… it’s going to be fine. Just please hang on.”

“I lo - “ Quinn gasped and then whimpered, frustrated and confused as her mouth continued to work but didn’t release any sounds.

“Shh, you - you shouldn’t talk, you’re not supposed to talk,” Rachel told her, thinking back on all those gory war films Finn had liked so much. She tried to smile, to reassure Quinn and back up her previous statement that everything would be fine, but she was crying too hard and it slipped off her face before she could really get her shaking lips to do what she wanted. Quinn’s arms and legs stopped their restless movement seconds later and her breathing started to shallow even further. Her eyes, alarmingly bright in her starkly pale face, were dimming, like a candle about to go out. “No! No, Quinn!” She sobbed. Demanded. Pleaded. “Don’t go. Don’t you dare. Please stay. Stay here with me. Quinn? Quinn! It’s going to be okay... you have to - Quinn?”

She pressed down even harder and gagged involuntarily as blood welled up in the cracks between her fingers, snaking across her hand in a thin line. Too much blood - there was too much, it was everywhere.

A shadow fell over her face and she knew it was Ryan without looking, but she couldn’t - wouldn’t - look away from Quinn. Not now. There had been a brief flash of something that had appeared in Quinn’s eyes when she’d pushed down this time. Their gazes were locked now and she wasn’t going to look away again until someone pulled her off.

“I - I lo - I lov - “

“No,” Rachel keened, terrified as Quinn’s eyelids fluttered and drooped down to half-mast. “No, no, no. Please.”

Quinn’s chest deflated as her breath weakly wheezed past her lips, eyes sliding shut and body going limp against Rachel’s.

“Quinn! Quinn, no!” Rachel shouted, pushing even harder on the wound and waiting to see that spark come back, to see that Quinn was still fighting. “Quinn!”

Clutching handfuls of Quinn’s shirt Rachel shook her and screamed.

Under her palm Quinn’s heart thumped sluggishly, slowing.

Until it stopped.

Ryan pushed her away quickly and started CPR, tilting Quinn’s head back and giving her a breath before he started chest compressions. Rachel could only watch, her hands pressed tightly against her mouth to try and keep from screaming again.

She watched Ryan work himself into a sweat, swearing profusely as he demanded that Quinn breathe.

Numbness settled over her and hung heavily on her shoulders, her whole world a blur, everything wrapped up in the woman who lay on the floor and remained unresponsive to Ryan’s desperate attempts to keep her heart pumping. 

As paramedics arrived and started to take Quinn away Rachel was shocked back to life, scrambling to follow them, shrugging off the hands that reached for her.

She was going with Quinn. 

That was it, all she knew.

She was going with Quinn.


	7. Present

Crammed in the back of Ryan’s beat up old hunting truck with Rachel and (unfortunately for her) Semper, Quinn sighed and attempted to adjust for the millionth time. She’d thought that they would take separate vehicles but Ryan had vehemently protested and, oddly, Rachel had joined in. Which was how Quinn found herself tucked onto a bench seat with an achy back, a dog sitting half on her, and her girlfriend maddeningly out of reach. Honestly, if she was going to have to ride in the ‘backseat’ of Ryan’s truck she’d at least like the ability to cuddle with Rachel. She got doggie kisses instead. 

As if sensing her thoughts Semper turned and stared at her, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, drool dripping from the tip onto Quinn’s pant leg.

Quinn felt her lip curl even as Semper’s tail started to thump against the seat. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned the dog, having had her face licked enough for one day. Angling her head around to try and look around Semper’s bulk, Quinn smiled when Rachel turned from the window and caught her eye. She’d been noticeably twitchy ever since that morning and Quinn had been hoping to talk to her alone about it on their way to the campground. That was out of the question now, aggravatingly enough, so that meant she had to stick to communication via laden glances. Only problem was they both really sucked at picking up what the other person was saying without actually speaking. 

Rachel liked to say they were telepathically challenged.

Not able to stare meaningfully any longer thanks to Semper, Quinn huffed a sigh and decided to outright ask. If Ryan or Allison tried to stick their nose in the conversation she’d just tell them to put on “ear muffs” or something. “Rachel, are you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Rachel chirped easily, the question coming too quickly and her voice high pitched. “Just, uh, ready to be there already.”

Quinn sighed again and slumped back into her seat in defeat, groaning when Semper took the opportunity to slobber supportively on her cheek before attempting to crawl into her lap for a better view out the window. Knowing that Rachel was more upset than she was letting on didn’t help fix the problem - if anything it just made Quinn feel more guilty. She was the cause, after all. 

It wasn’t the first time Quinn had a nightmare about being shot, and it wouldn’t be the last either. They both knew that, it just didn’t make it any easier. It was just... Rachel had never reacted like this before. Normally she’d just be a little extra Rachel the next morning. She’d call and check on her, show up for a surprise lunch, that sort of thing. This time she was almost withdrawing. Quinn understood that it was unsettling, they were her dreams after all, or memories really. They were mostly terrifying fragments, chunks made up of blurred colors and loud noises. The sound of the gunshot, screams. Rachel’s face, the image distorted. Her shoulder throbbed with the memory, prompting Quinn to rub at it with a frown. 

She remembered thinking she was going to die.

Rachel had a different experience, a worse one - something Quinn didn’t ever want to think about. If their roles had been reversed, how would it have felt to see Rachel bleeding in her arms? She couldn’t go there. Rachel had told her enough, about the hospital, and Quinn knew just from that how... how horrible it had been. How afraid Rachel had been that it was the end. 

It hurt Quinn to know she was responsible for the haunted look hiding in Rachel’s eyes every time she looked at her after a nightmare, like Quinn was a ghost. 

Ryan glanced back in the rearview mirror and noticed the spaced out and pensive looks on Quinn’s and Rachel’s faces. Allison seemed to have noticed, too; she raised an eyebrow at him when he looked over at her. Clearing his throat, he distracted them the best way he knew how.

By annoying them.

“So, Tadpole, you excited yet?” 

“Oh yes,” Rachel mumbled and rolled her eyes spectacularly. “Can’t wait to sleep on the ground and serve myself as a feast for bloodsucking, disease-carrying bugs.”

“And you think I’m dramatic,” Allison teased, flashing a grin at Ryan, having caught on to his little scheme.

“What, exactly, does this adventure entail?” Rachel asked, reaching over to tug at Quinn’s hand. She’d gone far too long denying herself the comforting touch - fearing she’d turn into a babbling moron if she wasn’t careful - but she couldn’t take it. As nervous as she was, she was ten times more eager about asking the question tied to the ring burning a hole in her pocket - well, purse - and she wasn’t well known for being patient. Ryan had warned her about not triggering Quinn’s suspicions, and she was trying but it was so hard. Every time she looked at Quinn she wanted to burst into song or giggles or something! That woman was going to be her fiancee! It had taken every ounce of self-control she had not to blurt out a proposal the second Quinn had arrived to pick her up, which had scared her straight into avoidance mode to keep from doing something stupid and ruining their moment. At this point she figured she’d been good enough to earn a reward - something simple like a hand-hold. She’d never been good at staying away from Quinn anyway.

“Depends. Personally I’m hoping for a little moonlit skinny dipping,” Ryan goaded, waggling his eyebrows and laughing when Allison slapped at him and Quinn threw a pretzel at his head. “Hey! I’m driving!”

“There is no way I am getting into any body of water that isn’t clean,” Rachel sniffed. “Certainly not naked.”

“You say that now, but wait until I get some beer in you,” Ryan countered, dodging another smack and blowing a kiss over at Allison. “What? You can’t hold it against me! One man and three gorgeous women? You call me a tease!”

“He’s joking… mostly,” Allison reassured them, shooting Ryan a warning glare. “He better be.”

“Fine,” Ryan mumbled. “Party poopers. Way to ruin a man’s fantasy. I’m a simple guy; I have simple needs and simple fantasies, really. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll die never having lived out that mermaid fantasy. I’m sure there will be plenty of other entertainment. Like watching Rachel throw a tantrum over the outhouse.”

Rachel blanched and quickly snapped her attention over to Quinn who was steadfastly looking out the window with her lips pursed. “No… you’re joking. Quinn, tell me he’s joking!”

“It’s not that bad,” Allison hastened to explain. “This is a pretty nice campground, most places don’t even have hygiene stations.”

“Rachel, I know what you’re imagining and I promise it’s nothing like that. It’s not an ancient farmhouse shack with a wooden door and the little half moon window. They are actual bathrooms and there are even showers,” Quinn said, still trying valiantly not to laugh at her spoiled girlfriend.

That did little to assuage Rachel though. “Are there lights in this ‘hygiene’ area?”

“During the day,” Ryan admitted. “It’s a natural lighting kind of deal, but I brought lots of flashlights if you have to go in the middle of the night and don’t want to use the woods.”

“Perfect, how magical... If I don’t want to use the woods,” Rachel grumped. “That’s just… Quinn, tell me you brought your gun.”

“I did,” Quinn nodded, patting her hip in conformation. “But you are not using it to ward off werewolves on trips to the bathroom.”

“Werewolves?” Allison questioned, face scrunched in confusion.

“I’m going to be eaten,” Rachel moaned, ignoring Allison, and dropping her head back against the headrest.

“Not with Ryan in the tent next to us you aren’t,” Quinn quipped, fighting off a blush when she realized she’d said that out loud.

Allison sprayed Diet Coke all over herself as she choked, laughing. Next to her Ryan could only gape at the rear-view mirror while a scandalized Rachel squealed and reached to strangle Quinn with her bare hands. 

“Best. Trip. Ever!” 

\---

As soon as they arrived at the campsite they all spilled from the truck, cracking backs and stretching out cramped legs. Semper was the only one who bounded out like a giddy child, running circles around Rachel’s legs and yapping happily. Even as she struggled not to fall over, Rachel had to envy the dog’s never ending energy. 

“Now what?” she asked, looking around warily. It looked nice enough, she guessed, but she was waiting for the ominous buzz of tiny wings to ruin the idyllic setting. Before she could dart back into the truck and make a getaway, Ryan grabbed her around the bicep and dragged her after him. 

“Now you and I will make fire while our women ready the tents,” he bellowed, puffing out his chest and gesturing at the fire pit. 

Rachel stared up at him incredulously, wondering (not for the first time) what went on his head. “You really are a neanderthal.”

Grinning dopely and not the least insulted by the comparison, Ryan thumped his chest and pointed again at the ring of stones. “Make fire, ugh, cook food, ugh, good food.”

“Oh god, Rachel, please don’t encourage him!” Allison cried from over by Quinn, both of them working on putting together the framework for their respective tents.

“First things first,” Ryan coached, waving off Allison and Quinn. “We need wood. I’m going to take care of that, so you get the fire kit out of the truck. It’s in the tub labeled ‘Fire’.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Rachel grumbled. “You know what would have been more helpful? If you’d mentioned that before we came over here.”

“I was caught up in the awesomeness of camping,” Ryan said with a half-hearted shrug and a grin. He wrapped his arm around Rachel’s shoulders and guided her back to the truck bed. “Get the lighter fluid, starter brick, and some other kindling. We’re going to make a man fire to put all other man fires to shame!” With that said, he hoisted an axe free from the truck, slung it over his shoulder, and started off towards the woods with a skip in his step, whistling a merry tune that sounded suspiciously like “Hi-Ho”. Rachel shook her head, exasperated, and climbed up onto the truck tire so she could reach into the back herself. 

The back was full of plastic bins, all marked with Ryan’s messy scrawl. Growling at his inability to write like an adult rather than a toddler, she quickly gave up trying to decipher the lids and instead flipped the nearest one open. She repeated that process until she was stretched uncomfortably over the various open bins, struggling to reach the last one. Finally she snagged the corner and managed to pry it open, crying out in triumph when she saw lighter fluid and the other items Ryan had said he needed for “man fire.” Grabbing up as much as she could hold, she stumbled back in the direction of the fire pit, only to trip on a tree root and go sprawling with a yelp.

Face down in the dirt she kicked her hands and feet, using the ground to muffle her scream, and then rolled and sat up, hands automatically reaching for her hair.

Quinn and Allison had seen the whole thing, of course, and were laughing hysterically over by the tents. Rachel glared at them as she stood up and swiped at the dust covering her jeans and Quinn’s Georgetown sweatshirt.

“Are you okay?” Quinn choked out through giggles.

“I believe with therapy I will recover,” Rachel snapped, sticking her nose up in the air at them.

Ryan came back into camp just as she was gathering up the last of the things she’d dropped, axe once again over his shoulder and an accomplished smile firmly in place. He dumped his bounty into the fire pit and leaned against the axe handle. “I showed those trees what for,” he said, then did a double take to inspect her more closely. “You have a leaf in your hair,” he mentioned, and then took in the rest of her appearance. “What happened to you?”

“I also got in a fight with a tree; it won,” Rachel huffed, combing her fingers through her hair searching for the errant leaf. 

“They’re crafty things,” he consoled her with a cheeky wink. “I know what’ll make you feel better! How about we burn some?”

“Let’s just get it over with before the bugs come out. Smoke is supposed to be a deterrent,” Rachel grumped. “Show me, oh master.”

More than happy to show off his man skills, Ryan started into a lecture about proper wood to start a fire and how to build it correctly. Rachel nodded and watched intently, even as she ignored almost everything he was saying. She really had no desire to ever build a fire herself, but he seemed to be enjoying teaching her, so she’d humor him. Plus he wasn’t laughing at her and Quinn and Allison already had. 

Ryan stood back up, both knees popping loudly, and picked up the lighter fluid. “Now, here’s where the fun really begins!” He then proceeded to liberally douse the firewood.

Rachel raised her eyebrows but handed him the lighter anyway, then took two big steps back. “Ryan? That’s a lot of lighter fluid, don’t you think?”

“I’m the expert here, little miss Broadway,” Ryan shot back, already flicking the lighter on.

The fire leapt to life immediately, flashing brightly and very hotly, spooking Rachel who squeaked and nearly fell over again. Almost as quickly as it flared up it dimmed right back down, crackling as it licked at the logs Ryan had so strategically placed. 

“Oh god, I think I burned off my eyebrows!” Ryan wailed, still kneeling beside the fire and stroking his fingers over his face.

“That’s cool,” Quinn called from by the mostly finished tent. “Now Allison won’t have to try and tweeze them while you’re sleeping for awhile.”

“I may need to re-think that fantasy about having three women around,” Ryan grumbled, stiffly sticking his middle finger up at them.

Rachel patted his shoulder, “They’re mean.”

The tents went up quickly after that while Rachel and Ryan turned their attentions toward unloading the truck fully and getting dinner started. Well, Ryan did most of the unloading while Rachel ‘supervised’ and mostly played with Semper until the food was unpacked.

“Rachel, I’m not blind. Quit feeding my dog hotdogs,” Ryan scolded, catching her slipping Semper his food for a third time.

“But she’s so cute and she wants one,” Rachel pouted, rubbing Semper’s velvety ears and cooing at her. “Look at that little face! How can you say no?”

“Really easily. I mean it, no more people food. She has dog food and treats. You keep it up and I’m going to make you take her out in the middle of the night when she gets sick,” he warned.

“Fine,” Rachel sighed and kissed the dog on the head. “Sorry, cutie, Dad says no.”

To keep Rachel from temptation, and his hotdogs safe, Ryan grabbed Semper and tethered her to a nearby tree away from Rachel and the food. “Ladies, if you’re done nesting over there it’s time to eat, drink, and be merry!”

Quinn peeked her head out of the tent at Ryan’s proclamation and waved at Rachel. “Come here for a second before we commence with the merriment, I want to show you something.”

Feeling apprehensive about the tent as it was, Rachel took her sweet time venturing over, wondering what Quinn could possibly have to show her. She’d seen the sleeping bags already, and the lantern that Quinn had jokingly referred to as their “nightlight”. “Is it our bed? Did you somehow secretly take it apart and transport it here without my knowledge?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Quinn snorted. She caught Rachel’s slender wrist and tugged her the rest of the way to the tent. “Just look.”

Rachel ducked slightly and entered their home away from home and felt her mouth gape open. It was almost… cute. It definitely looked more comfortable than what she’d been picturing. The bed even looked like an actual bed, not two sleeping bags spread out on the ground. “What is that?” she asked, confused as to how Quinn had created a bed with two sleeping bags, some blankets, and their pillows.

“Air mattress. Come on, Superstar, you think I’d let you sleep on the ground? Try it out,” Quinn coaxed, pushing Rachel lightly down onto the mattress. “See, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s comfortable?” Rachel said, disbelievingly. “We’ll be warm enough?”

“Between the sleeping bags, blankets, and body heat? We’ll probably get too hot,” Quinn said with a lopsided smile. “Feel better?”

“I admit that this is far nicer than I was imagining,” Rachel begrudged, flopping backwards and bouncing a little on the springy air filled mattress. “Not quite as nice as being home, or in a nice hotel, but this will work.”

“Well, gee, thanks your Worshipfulness.” Quinn rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly, holding out a hand to pull Rachel back to her feet. “Come on, spoiled.”

“I don’t have to cook my veggie dog on a stick do I?” Rachel asked, looping her arm through Quinn’s and leaning into her. “Watch out for that tree root.”

“No, you don’t have to cook it on a stick. We have hot dog forks. You’ll see.” Quinn kissed the side of Rachel’s head and beamed at Ryan and Allison, who were already snuggled up on a loveseat with beers and had their hotdogs over the fire.

“Nice of you to join us,” Allison said. “How is chez Fabray?”

“It’s chez Berry-Fabray,” Rachel corrected, secretly thrilled at the thought that it soon could be just Fabray. She flashed a bright grin up at Quinn, knowing the comment would earn her a raised eyebrow - which it unfailingly did.

“That’s Fabray-Berry,” Quinn sniffed playfully and pulled Rachel sloppily into her lap, happily laughing when Rachel squealed and tried to squirm away from tickling fingers. “Don’t topple us!”

Rachel immediately stilled, not wanting another dirt bath, thank you very much. She grabbed Quinn’s hands and held them away from her body, twisting to glare at her girlfriend. “No tickling,” she commanded, “or no snuggles.”

“Oooooh,” Ryan crooned lowly, widening his eyes appropriately at the threat.

“Now there’s an ultimatum,” Allison agreed.

“Ugh, you two always have to have some comment,” Quinn groused, freeing her hands from Rachel’s grasp to clutch her firmly around the middle. 

“Hecklers,” Rachel confirmed, leaning back and nuzzling against Quinn’s neck. “Can I cook my hotdog now?”

“It’s not a hotdog,” Ryan said, as if she’d insulted him somehow. “It’s like roasting a cucumber.” Untangling himself briefly from Allison, he handed over the food and two hot dog forks. “Beer?”

“Yes, please,” Quinn said, straining across to snag the offered beverages from Allison. 

“Just one,” Rachel bargained. She could hold her alcohol now, much better than she had in high school for sure, but she really had no desire to be drunkenly stumbling around in the dark forest later. Also, with Ryan around, there was no telling what could happen. He was really good at finding crazy, childish things for them to get into. Generally she loved him for it, even if she hated the hangover after; feeling young and carefree didn’t happen all the time for any of them, so those moments were treasured. Still, they were in the woods and he already had that glint in his eyes, so better safe than sorry.

As if to prove her point, Ryan winked over at her and she just knew that the night would end in them doing something stupid.

Something that would not be skinny dipping.

… she hoped.

“Quinn,” she whispered, cracking open the beer can.

“Mhm?” Quinn hummed, sipping at her own then setting her chin on Rachel’s shoulder. 

“Please, whatever else happens - fire dancing, chanting, face painting, whatever - please don’t let me go swimming naked in a lake,” Rachel pleaded quietly.

“I won’t, I promise,” Quinn said and kissed Rachel’s ear. 

Reassured that skinny dipping was off the menu Rachel raised her beer to the sky in a toast. “To adventures with friends.”


	8. Flashback

Allison had been nearly asleep, draped across her couch with her gloriously bare and heel-free feet dangling over the armrest, when her phone started to ring.

It had been a long night; she’d been out with her parents for dinner and all she really wanted now was to pretend to watch some Netflix until she finally drifted off. So when she opened one eye to glare at her phone and saw “Ryan Peterson” on the screen, she almost didn’t answer.

Not that she didn’t like Ryan, but when she’d given him her phone number with a playful little “call me”, she hadn’t thought she needed to specify that he call during typical work hours. 

Still, he was cute, and kind of funny, and seemed like a really nice guy... maybe he deserved a break. Just this once. Maybe he’d been working all day and just got a spare moment and was thinking about her. That thought actually made her feel warm and fuzzy. Not quite enough to let him by without a light scolding, but enough to actually reach over and pick up the phone before it went to voicemail. 

“I’m about ten minutes away from falling asleep,” she said by way of greeting, phone laying against her ear without the aid of her hand. “You better pour on the sugar if you’re calling about a date this late, and yes, I know that rhymed.”

“Quinn’s been shot.”

“What?” Allison sat up quickly, so fast that it made the room spin, her hand slapping the phone closer to her ear. She looked at the numbers on her DVR and watched the minute change over, assuring herself that this wasn’t some sort of dream brought on by watching too much Alias. Just to make sure, she raised her other hand up and gave a lock of hair a good tug, the dull pain confirming that she was awake. “Is - what - wh - when? Where? What?”

“They’re taking her to the hospital. Rachel’s with her, and I have to stay at the - can you...?”

“Oh my god, what hospital?” She stood up, already searching for her keys and shoes. “Is Rachel... ?” Well no, of course Rachel wasn’t okay. Jesus. There wasn’t time to analyze or even feel much; she had to act. Allison was halfway out the door when she realized she had on two different shoes and had left her keys. “Shit.”

“Rachel’s not hurt, the - Quinn stepped into - look I’ll explain everything, can you just - I can’t get there right now.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Allison nodded, reaching under her coffee table to retrieve the right shoe to go with the left (not the heel she had stepped into in her stupor) and snagged her keys off the surface. She stopped moving suddenly, holding her phone in one hand and her shoe in the other and realized that maybe she should take some clothes with her for Rachel, something soft and warm. It didn’t take her all that long to shove some “comfy clothes” into a duffle bag and then she was once more headed for her front door, less the disaster she was before. “Which hospital?”

\---

Allison wasn’t even aware she was crying until after she stepped out of the cab and started towards the entrance of the hospital. Her tears felt cold against her neck as she rushed forward and she quickly swiped them away, not wanting to seem callous about the whole thing but not wanting to be an obvious mess when Rachel saw her. There would be time for them to cry later, but right now? 

Right now Rachel needed her to be calm. 

And while Allison was confident in her abilities to be that for Rachel most of the time, she also knew that someone was going to have to be the proverbial safe port in the stormy night. She just wasn’t so sure she was fit for the rough sea they were all lost in right now.

Hopefully Ryan could get there soon, because he was that guy and somehow he could make it all better.

Until then? It fell to her.

Her bravado lasted all the way up to her finding Rachel.

She was curled up in a chair in the waiting room rocking herself back and forth, makeup and blood smeared over her features, and her hair curtaining half her face. It looked like she’d been in a car accident, and Allison wondered briefly how many nurses had stopped to ask her if she was alright. Her heart broke all over again when she saw that Rachel had her hands together in her lap, fingers working against each other as she tried to get blood off them.

Quinn’s blood.

Instinctively, Allison moved forward towards her shipwrecked friend, wanting to comfort her somehow, to make it all better. Even knowing it was impossible, she had to try. Rachel jerked when Allison reached out and gently took those bloodstained hands into hers, and she looked at her like a lost child, frightened and confused, peering up at Allison through her dirty hair.

“Hi,” Allison said, smiling encouragingly to hide the tremble in her own lips. “Sweets, can you come with me for a second? We can get you cleaned up.”

“No,” Rachel rasped, blinking rapidly like she was trying to see if Allison would vanish literally in the blink of an eye, while limply sliding her hands away. “Q-quinn needs me.”

“It’ll only be for a second, Rach, I swear,” she pleaded softly. Rachel didn’t fight at all when Allison tugged her easily up out of the chair and into her arms. “I’m sure Quinn would want me to help; wouldn’t you feel better if we got your hands cleaned?”

Rachel was tiny, but dead weight, and Allison struggled a little with her as they staggered together to the nearest ladies room. Allison swiftly leaned them against the sinks, flinching when she saw their reflection and feeling a fresh wave of tears prepare their assault as she got a better look at Rachel in the harsh lighting of the bathroom. Her dark eyes were so bloodshot it was like she’d burst a blood vessel, and she had raccoon eyes from the smudged makeup which only accentuated the ghoulish red. There was blood everywhere and Allison couldn’t believe Quinn had survived after losing that much. It was in Rachel’s hair and on her face and speckled across her neck. Even her clothes were damp with it...

“Oh, Rach,” Allison whispered. Rachel started to cry again, big gulping sobs as she stared at her reflection. 

Holding her up with one hand Allison used the other to turn the faucets on, mindful of the temperature even in her haste. When she was satisfied that it would be warm but not scald either of them she took Rachel’s hands and put them under the steady stream, rubbing as carefully as she could, not wanting to hurt Rachel but needing to get the blood off. The water turned a pinkish hue as it swirled around the drain and Allison choked on a whimper as she tried to shush Rachel.

When she finished, having done the best she could with the areas she could, Allison reached over for the paper towels. “Sorry these aren’t soft, but I’ll be quick.” With the warning delivered she did as promised, swiping the rough paper over Rachel’s neck and face and hands, drying her and scraping at the lingering residue. 

Rachel stared at her in the mirror, hiccupping and sniffling, tears still running from her murky brown eyes and down her stained cheeks.

“Rach... did you call anyone?” Allison asked gently. Unable to take it anymore she turned Rachel awkwardly around and wiped the tears away. “Her family? Your Dads?”

She slowly drooped forward, slumping down until her head and then upper body rested heavily against Allison’s. There was a strangled sort of sound, and then Allison heard a soft but distinct “no.”

“That’s okay; it’s okay, Rach. Do you know who we should call?”

“I can’t - my Dad’s don’t - not like this,” Rachel stuttered, holding onto Allison like she was the only thing that kept her from drowning. “Camille? C-Cam?”

Allison rubbed her palms over Rachel’s back, trying to combat the tremors she felt racing through her. “Cam? Cam is related to Quinn?”

“Her sister,” Rachel said, burrowing still deeper into the embrace. “I – she – she’s going to be so mad.”

“No,” Allison vehemently countered, shaking her head. “Nobody’s going to be mad at you; it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is!” Rachel snapped, abruptly pulling back and smacking into the counter. Allison almost didn’t recognize her - the look in her eyes wasn’t something she’d seen before. It was as if she was going through all the stages of grief right in front of her. “I – we were fighting and if I’d – if I hadn’t messed up we wouldn’t have been there… and I think, I think I know him.”

Allison held up her hands and then dropped them, not sure what to do. “Rachel, Sweets, I don’t understand.”

“I know him, the man who…” Rachel choked and scrubbed her hands over her eyes, leaving a streak of black eyeliner smudged over a cheekbone. “He shot her. Quinn. Quinn’s shot, she…” She died.

“Alright, alright, it’s going to be okay,” Allison soothed, tentatively pulling at a limp hand until Rachel was back in her arms again. “Let’s just - one thing at a time, okay?”

“He shot her,” Rachel said. “I couldn’t save her.”

“She’s got the best doctors in the world working with her, and she’s one tough mama,” Allison consoled, unconsciously swaying from side to side. “If you ask me, it’s going to take more than a puny bullet to stop her.”

Rachel shuddered, tucking her head more firmly under Allison’s chin, fists clenching and releasing the fabric of Allison’s soft blouse. Allison decided it was time to break out the comfy clothes, sure that Rachel would feel at least a little better when she wasn’t wearing something smattered with Quinn’s blood. “Hey, I brought you some… I brought you some warm clothes, want to change?”

She didn’t wait for a response, quickly pulling open the duffle bag still hanging off her shoulder and pressing it into Rachel’s hands. The clothes were going to be slightly long on her, but Allison figured they’d fit better and be warmer, be more familiar and comforting, than borrowed scrubs. Rachel stared at the bag for so long Allison was worried she’d slipped into some sort of catatonic state, or whatever that was called, but then she was staggering into a stall and noisily fumbling around in the bag.

The crying picked up again from behind the door, soft whimpers that tore at the soul to hear punctuated by the wet sound of clothing falling to the floor. But when the door opened Rachel looked better, even though the pants covered her feet and the sleeves extended past her hands, and her lower lip still wobbled as she stared down at the pile of ruined clothes at her feet. 

“I’ll get those; don’t worry about it. Did you find the slippers?” Allison hastened to say, not wanting Rachel to spend any more time looking at the evidence. She reached towards the bag and pulled out the shoes, holding them out for Rachel’s inspection, hoping for some sort of something else to show up in her expression. 

“Thank you,” Rachel offered, and took the fuzzy slippers like they were fine china. When she didn’t say anything else for a couple of minutes Allison decided to broach the topic again. 

“So Cam is Quinn’s sister? Would you like me to call her?”

“Her number is – it’s in my phone. I don’t have it mem-memorized yet.” Rachel looked embarrassed at the whispered admittance. Like she’d done something unforgivable, not having a phone number memorized yet. 

“That’s okay. Let’s go sit back down and I’ll call her.” Clutching Rachel close, Allison shuffled them back into the waiting room and made a beeline for the nearest set of chairs that didn’t have an armrest dividing them. She helped Rachel sit, just in case she was as unsteady on her feet as she looked, and Rachel wordlessly handed over her phone.

Allison smiled encouragingly, hoping the gesture would be seen as comforting and not mocking of the situation. It slipped more easily from her face than when it appeared as she looked down at the device and saw Quinn on the background, grinning from ear to ear next to a pouting Rachel covered in something that looked suspiciously like flour. She almost asked what the story behind the photo was, but caught herself. Rachel seemed to know anyway; she was staring at the phone with a distant expression, and Allison wondered if she was reliving the moment – the one on the phone, that happier time, and not the incident that brought them to this place.

“I’ll be right over there,” Allison said, pointing to the far corner of the room. Rachel nodded and then went back to staring at her hands, as if she’d never seen them before. 

It was so late it was early, and Allison wasn’t surprised when the call went straight to voicemail. She managed to keep her voice steady as she left a message with the essential details and her own cell phone number. From there she quickly returned to the bathroom and cleaned up Rachel’s discarded clothes, valiantly holding back yet another bout of tears as she put them in the trash.

Rachel didn’t even twitch when she returned and sat next to her. Allison took her hand and patted her own shoulder, offering a leaning post which Rachel accepted. 

Now there was nothing left to do except wait.

\---

It kept playing over and over in Rachel’s head. Practically sitting in Allison’s lap, carelessly holding a cup of Earl Grey that had long gone cold, all she could see was Quinn falling, again and again. She could still hear the screaming and yelling of the panicked bar patrons, and the god awful sound of the gun being fired. The crazed fury in the eyes of the gunman who had been her “biggest fan”. Then Quinn, her blonde hair so brightly splayed out on the dirty floor, eyes glassy and unfocused, chest moving rapidly as she fought for breath. The blood had soaked rapidly through her shirt, pooled in her neck and under her on the floor, staining Rachel’s clothes and hands.

Somewhere, in a dark corner of her mind that she wasn’t paying any attention to, a voice was telling her that she needed to tell Ryan that she’d seen the shooter before, but it all seemed so very distant and unimportant with Quinn fighting for her life on an operating table.

Fighting again, because she’d already died once. Rachel had seen it - she’d felt it - that awful moment when life left Quinn and ripped her away from Rachel.

The thought of Quinn cut open with doctors working on her made Rachel want to vomit, and once that got into her head she knew it was really going to happen. Her body started to quake anew and then heave as she gagged on nothing but air.

Allison moved swiftly, as though she’d been expecting it already, and before Rachel knew what was happening she was being held over a trashcan, her hair gently pulled back as she spewed the contents of her stomach into the bin. The tears came back, though they’d never really gone away, just as hard as before, like she hadn’t been crying all night anyway. She didn’t bother with trying to fight them off - she was too damn tired to even make a half-hearted attempt - but turned back in to Allison, into the slight comfort she found there and bawled into her chest.

“Okay, shh, Sweets,” she said soothingly, rich voice muffled and clogged sounding, letting her know that she was crying, too. “Breathe. Come on, breathe.”

Biting down onto her tender bottom lip she tried to stifle the deluge of tears as she put her arms around Allison’s neck, holding on for dear life. Allison half lifted her, half dragged her, back to their seats and Rachel didn’t even care if they were making a scene; everything hurt too much and she wanted to wake up from the nightmare to find Quinn safe and sound in the bed next to her.

But it became all the more real when she heard Cam tremulously call her name.

Whipping around, she saw Cam and Sean standing next to the nurses station. She recognized the expression on Cam’s face only because she’d seen it on Quinn’s too many times to keep track of - the stiff upper lip, the “I will not cry” brave face.

“Rachel?” Cam said again, big blue eyes noticeably wet despite the tough facade, even across the distance.

With her knees threatening to buckle on every lurching step, Rachel slipped away from Allison and stumbled over to fiercely hug Cam. She heard Sean and Allison talking quietly, introducing themselves, but all Rachel could focus on was Cam’s harsh breathing in her ear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Rachel cried, clutching tighter to Cam. The wrong Fabray, as Cam had once called herself.

The wrong Fabray.

“No,” Cam gasped, pulling back enough so Rachel could see the adamant shake of her head. “No, don’t you think that for a second. Rachel, it’s – don’t apologize, please. You didn’t do anything wrong - you did not do this, ok? It’s not your fault.”

No matter how often she heard it: from Ryan, from Allison, and now from Cam, Rachel didn’t think she’d ever be able to let go of the blame or her guilt. “It is; we had this stupid fight and… God, she stepped right in front of me a-and she – he shot her and it was supposed to be me!”

“Quinn loves you and she’s – she’s going to be okay.” Cam paused, struggling for a full breath as her throat closed around what she was trying to say. “She’s going to be fine. She’s stronger than all of us and she’s got things - she has you to fight for, so don’t… We have to believe that it’s all going to be alright, Rachel”

“Did – did you call Judy?” Rachel hesitantly asked, not sure she could handle not only meeting Quinn’s mother again under such circumstances, but the accusation she pictured in Judy Fabray’s eyes. 

“No, I – I wanted to have news first and I’m not, um, I’m not sure what Quinn would want with that.” 

Cam let go of Rachel and smiled weakly over at Allison. “You’re Allison? The – You called me?”

“Yes,” Allison nodded, well aware that a ‘nice to meet you’ would be utterly ridiculous at the moment.

“Um, so has there been any news?” Sean asked, carefully looping his arm around his wife who leaned gratefully into his support. 

Rachel shook her head, looking down at the floor to avoid staring at the double doors leading back into the ‘business’ area of the hospital. “No. She’s still in surgery.”

Cam nodded and wavered slightly on her feet, leaning more heavily into Sean’s side; Rachel couldn’t help the twinge in her stomach because the one person she wanted to lean on wasn’t there. She had Allison and she had Cam and Sean for support but not the kind she needed. Glancing back at those double doors and through the small window that showed the hallway that seemingly stretched forever she wondered where Quinn was, if she had any sort of awareness.

To some it might have seemed an odd thought, but Rachel desperately hoped that Quinn could see them, her family, waiting for her to come back to them.


	9. Present

It wasn’t long before Rachel’s one beer had turned into four. She didn’t care though, too caught up in having fun to keep to her rule. The fire was warm against her front and she had Quinn, solid and cozy, cuddled against her back; plus, her friends were there and she’d learned how to cook a veggie dog or two using the small prongs that Quinn repeatedly reminded her were called “hot dog forks” even though they didn’t look like any fork she’d seen before. 

She was drifting slightly, a half smile on her face as she contemplated shiny rings and Quinn in wedding dresses when Allison broke the easy silence they’d fallen into.

“I think it’s story time.” Allison sat up as she made her announcement, totally upsetting Ryan’s more than obvious plan for stealing a kiss. He pouted with all the charm of a five year old and she giggled as she pushed his bottom lip back in. “Someone tell me a story. Preferably one that involves significant embarrassment so I can laugh at your expense. Ryan? Quinn?”

“Ryan and Quinn?” Quinn repeated with mock outrage, arms tightening around Rachel’s midriff as she sat up further. “Are you suggesting we’re the only ones with embarrassing stories?”

“No, not at all,” Allison replied, exasperatedly fighting off Ryan who was growling at her and had resumed his quest for a kiss. “I’m merely suggesting that you two are the ones who hide those stories - you know, the ones that give Rachel and I unspeakable joy?”

“That’s true,” Rachel chimed in, playing with Quinn’s fingers and imagining a diamond ring on her left hand. “You’re all super hero-y all the time.”

“Please, I wish. Unfortunately even Superman - that would be me, obviously - gets caught with his tights down occasionally,” Ryan argued. He’d finally given up on getting Allison to kiss him and sighed before finished off his beer, frowning when he realized the can was indeed empty.

“Can we not talk about you, tights, and down ever again?” Quinn asked, wrinkling her nose at the regrettable mental picture she’d conjured. “Though that time we handcuffed you to your chair was pretty awesome.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes over at her, “I was thinking about that time that guy fell in love with you in interrogation. You remember that? That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you charm someone without meaning to. And then he drew you that picture, a pretty good one, too. I especially appreciated the enhancement he gave your likeness.” Ryan tapped his chin thoughtfully, a smug grin spreading across his face. “I heard he wrote you a very moving ballad in prison. Didn’t he declare his undying love for you in court?”

“A criminal fell in love with you?” Rachel shrieked, nearly falling off Quinn’s lap when she attempted to whirl around with her usual diva flair. “Is no one immune to your charms?”

“He was insane,” Quinn defended, nose wrinkling again. “Out of his mind. I brought him a soda and suddenly I was some angel sent from God.”

“Must have been one hell of a soda,” Allison laughed while Rachel fumed in Quinn’s lap.

“He wrote you a song!” Rachel grumped, arms crossed over her chest. “The nerve. I demand to know his name, I need to see this piece of… music.”

“So you can write a better one?” Ryan quipped, raising an eyebrow. “What, like you’ve never dedicated a song to Quinn? I find that hard to believe.”

Silence.

Rachel fidgeted, recalling a long list of songs she’d performed for (or because of) Finn, and the one duet she’d sang with Quinn. One. The first time she’d ever serenaded her Quinn had been shot, and the second time she’d sang to her Quinn had been in the hospital and hadn’t heard a single note. Not exactly the best track record. Though she did have a habit of sleep singing, which Quinn got to hear, but that didn’t count. Tears welled up immediately and embarrassed, Rachel turned into Quinn, hiding her flushed face.

“Way to go, Marine,” Allison hissed, having seen the sheen on Rachel’s eyes caught in the light of the fire. 

“What? What’d I say?” Ryan asked, confused as to where the happy mood had gone. He looked to Quinn for answers, but his partner was busy consoling Rachel who had all but curled up in a ball in her lap. They were caught up in whispering to one another, Rachel sniffling and Quinn smiling sadly. Then it hit him, “Stuck Like Glue” had to have been Rachel’s first attempt at singing specifically to Quinn and that had ended with Quinn bleeding out on the grungy floor of a trashy karaoke bar. The second time Rachel sang some haunting song that he’d never heard before and Quinn had been unconscious in a hospital bed. “Well, shit,” he mumbled, slapping the back of his own head.

Allison nudged him with her elbow, her brown eyes silently but pointedly asking that he do something.

It hit him then that he’d brought just the right thing to fix the situation. Stumbling out of his chair, he very nearly tossed Allison’s blanket into the fire in his haste to get untangled from it. Cursing his stupidity under his breath he made a beeline for his tent, eyes glued to the ground to try and avoid trip hazards.

“Boy when you stick your foot in your mouth you really go for it don’t ya?” he chastised himself. “Might as well ask if they want to have a group discussion about the whole thing. Stupid. Idiot.” It took him a moment to find the zipper to the tent door in the dark and he felt like he’d almost ripped the whole tent down yanking at it, but he managed to get inside without bringing the whole structure down. Fortunately, Allison had unloaded the item he was looking for and set it right against the tent wall so he wouldn’t have to fumble around for it. He grabbed it and held it lovingly for a second before closing the tent back up and making his way back to the fire. 

Quinn seemed to have calmed Rachel down quite a bit, and was now holding Rachel’s face and saying something (probably mushy) in hushed tones that had Rachel giggling and nodding.

Settling back down next to Allison he smiled at her and unzipped the soft case, tenderly removing his guitar and running his fingers over the frets. He strummed through a C chord, and then set himself to tuning it.

“I didn’t know you could play,” Rachel said timidly, drawing his attention back over to her. He shrugged casually, continuing to tune. 

“I’m not very good, but I do know a couple of songs,” he admitted. “Does it sound in tune to you two pros?”

“Yup,” Allison nodded, smiling over at Rachel and Quinn. “He’s just being modest, he’s good.”

Ryan blushed at her praise and played through the C chord again, pleased when it sounded perfect to his ears. “I think we’re all set. Come here, Tadpole,” he called softly. Rachel reluctantly removed herself from Quinn and walked over to him, hands clasped in front of her as she stood before him. He gestured for her to come closer and she bent down to within whispering distance. “We’re going to set this right, okay? Do you know “Your Song”?”

Wide eyed, she nodded and a small smile turned up the corner of her lips. “Of course I do, it’s a classic, and if you’d been paying attention, a part of Moulin Rouge.”

“It may not be… I know you probably would have picked something different, something more ‘you’ and a different location, but can you work with this? If you don’t want to that’s fine, too, you won’t hurt my feelings,” he told her, searching reddened doe eyes. She bit into her bottom lip briefly and softly touched his bristly chin.

“This is really sweet of you, Ryan. If you’re not careful I’ll start expecting it, you know. I think it’s perfect,” she said and straightened back up.

Taking that to be his cue, Ryan started to play, watching his fingers closely, not wanting to make any mistakes to mess up what Rachel was about to do. 

He’d heard Rachel sing before, of course, but it was on stage, in the car, a couple of times in her home, or at the bar. She’d always had a voice so much bigger than her tiny body, and he was expecting her to let it loose to ring around the forest. Surprisingly though, when she opened her mouth and started the first verse her voice was gentle and tender, not tiny or shy by any means, but much more intimate than he’d ever heard it. When he risked a quick glance up at her she was looking right at Quinn with an intensity that made him feel like he was witnessing something very, very special.

Quinn was completely mesmerized. Sure, Rachel sang all the time, and she’d heard her croon love songs to Finn Hudson more times than she’d care to remember, and to her co-stars as well, but this was immediately different. She felt like her heart was going to break in her chest or break out of her chest to try and give itself over to Rachel. She had to wonder if Finn had felt that way every time Rachel sang to him. If he’d realized that gift he was being offered. It wasn’t just her voice, it was Rachel. Somehow she doubted that Finn had caught on to that. Quinn felt like she was seconds away from crying, hearing the raw emotion pouring out of Rachel, like a hidden message buried in the music. 

Unable to keep quiet through the whole song - not with everything bubbling up inside her - Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, tapped into her emotions, and let it go. It was almost like a religious experience for her, when the music got a hold of her like that. No matter what she was feeling or how consumed with emotion she could be, it could all be expressed and pushed out in the music and bring relief. Catharsis. She hit the chorus for the last time and opened her eyes, bringing the volume back down but not the intensity. A few tears escaped and she let them go, smiling despite them when she saw that Quinn’s eyes were just as wet. 

The last note lingered in the air, long after Rachel had closed her mouth. All four of them were sniffling now, unabashedly swiping at their eyes.

“Jesus,” Ryan said, looking around at Quinn and Allison and then back up at Rachel with awe. “Marry me.”

“Hey!” Quinn cried and Allison pinched his arm with a huff. Rachel blushed, shyly making her way back over to Quinn. 

Rachel eagerly gripped Quinn’s outstretched hands but stopped short of climbing back into the chair. Instead, she stood in front of Quinn and waved their hands from side to side, waiting for Quinn’s reaction. 

Quinn didn’t disappoint, beaming a watery smile as she pulled gently until Rachel took the hint and sat back down on her lap. Rachel leaned into her, eyes closed again as she soaked in the feeling.

“Thank you,” Quinn whispered.

“I love you,” Rachel whispered back.

“Did you hear that Ryan?” Quinn said loudly, aiming a still scary fake glare over Rachel’s shoulder at him. “She loves me. Besides, she’s not even your type. She’s not inflatable.”

Allison squinted, trying to decide if that was an insult to her as well, and Ryan’s jaw dropped. 

“Quinn!” Rachel scolded without any heat whatsoever, snuggling deeper into Quinn’s arms.

“I’m going to go ahead and let that one slide because it was pretty good,” Allison finally decided, patting Ryan’s shoulder consolingly. “She got you.”

“I’ll get you back,” Ryan promised pointing over at Quinn threateningly. “Oh yes, I will.”

“Don’t pretend to propose to my girl,” Quinn fired back, winding her arms more firmly around Rachel. “No matter how talented and amazing she is.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Rachel all but purred, feeling significantly lighter after singing to Quinn without something catastrophic happening. She’d been afraid she might have been cursed or something.

“Whatever,” Ryan said, putting his arm around Allison’s slim shoulders. “I have my own incredibly hot and gifted girlfriend.”

“Yeah, now you turn on the charm,” Allison scoffed, winking over at Quinn and Rachel.

“I can’t win,” Ryan sighed and bent over to dig into the case of beer at his side. “So… who wants to kill the rest of this case?”

\---

When the last can of beer had been finished off Quinn quickly announced that it was bedtime - before Ryan could get any ideas about the bottle of whiskey he’d also brought out with him - and helped a groggy Rachel up. Quinn’s legs had long ago fallen asleep, but she’d had no intention of moving Rachel until she absolutely had to. She needed the closeness just as much as Rachel did.

Ryan doused the fire without warning, plunging them all into complete darkness. Rachel squealed and grabbed Quinn’s arm so tightly that Quinn couldn’t hold back a yelp of her own. “Ow! Rachel, Jesus!”

“Where’s the flashlight?” Rachel wailed, attempting to climb a flailing Quinn.

“Hey, does this remind anybody else of The Descent? You know with the caving and the creepy night vision stuff and those freaky cave dudes?” Ryan asked from somewhere behind them. Rachel went deathly still, one leg around Quinn’s hip and both hands on Quinn’s shoulders; she widened her eyes as big as she could - because when you’re drunk you assume that will give you night vision powers - but only succeeded in making her eyes watery. 

She went back to plan B - scale Quinn and ride to safety. 

Quinn choked as Rachel’s arms wound around her neck and tugged, nearly sending them both to the ground. Fighting Rachel off as gently as she could, she found the switch on her flashlight and turned it on, pointing it right in Ryan’s eyes for revenge. “Ryan, what did I say about scaring Rachel?”

“That I shouldn’t… Oops,” Ryan said, holding tightly to a swaying Allison who merely smiled at them. “I forgot and it just reminded me. Sorry, Tadpole.”

Rachel whimpered, clinging to Quinn’s back with her head firmly buried between her shoulder blades. She remembered that movie, oh yes she did. It was unbelievable to her that Quinn could actually watch it, claustrophobic as she was. The Descent made her feel like the walls were closing in and Quinn didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.

But, then again, Quinn was really good with dealing with scary movies. She loved them. 

Crazy woman.

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Rachel told herself, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Where’s the tent? Can we please go to the tent?”

“Just hold on to me,” Quinn said and slowly started to waddle them towards the tent, following the beam of the flashlight. 

Getting Rachel into the tent was easy enough, because she all but fell in once the flap was open. The hard part was convincing her to change out of her jeans. She knew that if she couldn’t get her out of them she’d be woken at some point in the night by Rachel demanding to know why she was still in them. Having heard it before she could imagine exactly what Rachel would say, something along the lines of, “Quinn Fabray! How could you let me sleep in denim! This is not acceptable sleepwear!”

“Rachel, trust me. You’ll thank me in the morning, so let’s get you into some sweatpants,” Quinn said, coaxing Rachel onto her back to tug at her ankles again. Rachel whined, but allowed Quinn to work the jeans down her legs, kicking weakly to assist. It was cold, colder than she’d expected, and she wanted to curl up under the blankets with Quinn and sleep forever. Hopefully the cave monsters would leave them alone.

“’s cold,” she complained, pouting and flailing.

Quinn smiled crookedly, thinking that Rachel looked like a fussy baby, and quickly turned to find Rachel’s sleep wear in their duffle bag. She found them easily enough and shook her head at the predictably pink, ridiculously soft pants. Rachel was much more helpful in putting those on then she had been in removing her jeans, batting Quinn’s hands away and pulling them over her hips on her own. 

“Better now?” Quinn asked, tickling the bottom of Rachel’s sock clad feet.

“No. Cuddle me,” Rachel demanded, only slightly slurring her words.

One beer indeed, Quinn thought with a raised eyebrow. She shucked her coat and dug into the duffle bag a second time for her own clothes. It was cold, so she tried to change as swiftly as possible, managing to tip over onto the mattress in her haste and disturb Rachel who was already half-asleep. “Sorry,” Quinn whispered. “You going to get under the blankets?”

“You’re not the boss - the boss of me,” Rachel sleepily chastised, but still doing as Quinn suggested, squinting unhappily at the flashlight as she raised the blankets and dove under them. They weren’t warm, not yet, and she wanted to roll in them to be a Rachel burrito, but Quinn didn’t like it when she hogged the covers. “Hurry,” she said, pulling the top blanket over her nose.

“Now who’s bossy?” Quinn asked but did as ordered, snaking under the blankets and plastering herself right up against Rachel’s warm little body.

“I need a space heat thingy,” Rachel grumbled, shoving her hands unceremoniously under Quinn’s shirt to warm them.

Quinn hissed at the sensation of chilled fingers splaying out over her torso. “How many times have you complained about me being a human heater?”

Giggles erupted from somewhere near them, and Quinn frowned, rolling slightly to glare at the tent wall. “Ryan! Allison! Tent walls are not actually walls! The only thing I want to hear from you two is snoring!”

The sounds immediately died out and then Ryan bellowed back. “Hey, Qball, does it count as an orgy if we all get laid at the same time but can’t see each other?”

“Ryan!” Allison shrieked.

“Ewwww,” Rachel added, scrunched up face hidden in her pillow.

“I will sneak into your tent, smother you in your sleep, and blame it on SIDS,” Quinn threatened, exasperated. “I mean it, Marine. Behave yourself or face the consequences.”

“Don’t worry, Q,” Allison called. “It was only tickling. I promise there will be none of that on this trip. And if Ryan brings up the word ‘orgy’ again you won’t have to smother him, because I’ll take care of it for you.”

“First you take away the skinny dipping and now you’ve ruined all my fun!”

Blessed quiet fell again and Quinn dropped back down onto her pillow with a huff. Rachel squirmed closer, and Quinn was sure she’d fallen asleep already until a very groggy voice spoke up in the dark.

“Don’t leave me, okay?”

“I would never,” Quinn promised.

\---

Rachel’s eyes snapped open to a darkness that she actually couldn’t fathom. Pitch black. She’d thought that was just some charming expression and had obviously heard the phrase, but now - now she was experiencing it. 

Whimpering quietly, she wiggled around, wondering if she could ignore the ‘call of nature’ and go back to sleep. Just until she could see her hands in front of her face again.

Unfortunately her body was having none of that and her eyes started to water. Next to her she could hear Quinn breathing and knew that she was probably deeply asleep if her movements had done nothing to wake her. 

“Baby?” She tried anyway, hoping for some form of response. Quinn groaned and wormed closer, but didn’t say anything. Rachel sighed and fumbled in the black hole they were apparently sleeping in to try and find Quinn’s head. Her fingers came in contact with soft hair and she started blindly running her fingers through it. “Quinn,” she whined.

“No monster,” Quinn grumbled, voice muffled by her pillow. “Go sleep.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Rachel whispered urgently. That damn beer, she knew better.

“That’s nice,” Quinn muttered and rolled over.

Rachel huffed, pouting in the dark. “Fine, but you’re going to regret this later.”

Throwing back the blankets, Rachel bit her lip and shivered as the cold immediately seeped in and grabbed her. Hissing her breath out through her teeth, she crawled around the tent until she found the flashlight and turned it on, briefly happy that she could see. 

Quinn growled, bundling further in the blankets and pulled her pillow over her head. Rachel glared at her, muttering under her breath about unresponsive girlfriends, and dug her cell phone out of the duffle bag. She’d turned it off when they first arrived to save the battery. 

Quinn had her phone right next to her, along with her gun, so Rachel felt confident that if a deranged forest animal or Gollum-like cave creature came after her she could call Quinn and be rescued.

After yanking on her hiking boots she unzipped the tent, and with a deep breath for courage stepped out into the cold night.

Semper moved around in her crate and Rachel brightened, moving over to let her out. “Semper, you want to go with me?”

Ever the wiggling ball of energy, Semper leapt out of the crate and wove a tight circle around Rachel’s legs. Rachel could barely see her with the flashlight, but she managed to find the leash and clip it to the dog’s collar.

“Okay, girl, if you see anything suspicious, bark,” Rachel ordered, clutching tight to the leash and aiming the beam of light in the direction of the hilariously named ‘comfort station’. Semper stayed glued to her thigh the whole trip, as Rachel walked very slowly, her head on a swivel. The further she got from the tents the more she started to think about all of the creepy movies she’d watched with Quinn. A lot of them featured campgrounds or camping type scenarios. Like the one with the cannibals who tried to kill Eliza Dushku.

Of course the second her brain got wrapped around that thought there was no getting rid of it - and she couldn’t see.

“Damn it, Quinn,” she swore, breaking into a run when she was steps away from the door. The panic didn’t really set in until it closed behind her and she discovered it was scarier inside than outside. She jumped when the flashlight hit the mirror and she saw herself and then she jumped again when water dripped from one of the faucets.

Everything echoed in the concrete room; she could hear her ragged breathing bouncing off the walls and for the life of her couldn’t get herself to move further into the cold space. Semper nudged her with a cold nose as if to say, ‘Hurry up, lady, it’s cold’. Rachel sighed and rubbed at chocolate colored ears. “What if I said I was so scared that I don’t have to go anymore?”

Semper snorted and shook her head, dogtags jingling loudly.

\---

Everything was fine and dandy, right up until Rachel was getting ready to leave. A loud bang startled her while she was juggling the flashlight and her pants. Flailing and screeching, she crashed into the wall and dropped her flashlight.

Repeat: Dropped. Her. Flashlight.

The light rolled away from her, right into the next stall, leaving Rachel crouched in the dark, staring at the beam.

“Not happening,” Rachel whined, clutching at Semper’s collar and wondering how she was going to get the flashlight back before the cave people got her. She was trapped, in the dark, with a dog as her only company.

“Quinn,” she said, patting urgently at her pockets. As silly as it might have been, she felt the prick of tears and an overwhelming sense of dread as she fumbled for her phone with chilly fingers.

“Fabray?” A very groggy voice answered.

Normally, Rachel would have laughed at Quinn’s sleepy greeting. Almost asking if her name was ‘Fabray’. Instead, she held the phone a little tighter and huddled deeper into the corner.

“Save me,” Rachel hissed, unable to tear her eyes away from the damned flashlight. It was mocking her, so close and yet so far away.

“Rachel? Wha - where are you?”

“I’m - don’t laugh - I’m in the poorly named comfort station. I dropped my flashlight,” Rachel hastened to explain. “Will you please come get me?”

In the background, she heard the rustling of Quinn untangling herself from the wonderful safe, warm bed and then the zipper being pulled on the tent. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried!” Rachel huffed. “You were very unhelpful.”

“I knew I should have taken you before we went to bed,” Quinn groused back, and now Rachel could hear her clomping across the ground.

“Will you hurry, please?” Rachel pressed the phone tighter against her ear, other hand clenching tightly around Semper’s collar.

“Are you that scared?” Quinn asked, and Rachel heard a hint of worry coloring the obvious amusement in Quinn’s tone.

“I think I’m still drunk and - and I hate you for making me watch those movies,” Rachel scolded, embarrassed. She realized it was ridiculous - a grown woman trapped out of fear in a bathroom - but it really was terrifying in said bathroom!

“You’re fine, Superstar,” Quinn whispered. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything get you.”

The door to the comfort station banged open and she heard Quinn hiss out an expletive at the sound. “Rachel?”

“I’m back here,” Rachel cried, tearing up again. She just wanted out; she wanted to be back in their little black hole tent home, safe and warm with Quinn... and Quinn’s gun. It was stupid, but she really couldn’t care less. Semper strained forward, pulling against Rachel’s hold, clearly having recognized her friend’s voice.

A flashlight beam appeared and in the light Rachel saw Quinn’s pale hand reach down and retrieve the other light from the next stall. “Rachel? I’m going to open the door now, please don’t attack me.”

Too tired to be indignant, she forced herself to stand on shaking legs, cold and more than ready to be rescued. The door creaked open so slowly and there Quinn stood, hair an absolute mess, shoes untied, and holding two flashlights. She quirked an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

“Q!” Rachel couldn’t hold still then and darted forward, aided by Semper who was also trying to get to Quinn.

“Confession? I love when you call me ‘Q’.” Quinn said, holding on to Rachel with one arm and stroking Semper’s head with her free hand. “I see you weren’t totally alone.”

“I know,” Rachel said, burrowing deep into Quinn’s hold, clutching handfuls of Quinn’s sweatshirt. “Some help she was. Semper’s a scaredy dog.”

“Don’t tell Ryan that,” Quinn commented, easily turning them back towards the door. “Actually though, I’m not sure you’ll remember this at all, so it’s probably best not to tell him about this adventure.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Rachel argued, clinging to Quinn’s forearm as they navigated their way back to the tents. She snagged her flashlight back from Quinn and pointed it away from their feet, scanning the area for danger.

“Okay,” Quinn agreed in that tone that never failed to make Rachel want to slap her. On the arm of course, but a slap nonetheless.

“Quinn,” she whined as petulantly as possible.

“Rachel,” Quinn whined back, wiggling her arm free of Rachel’s death grip to put Semper back in her crate.

“This isn’t funny!” Rachel protested, wanting to stamp her foot but realizing balancing even briefly on one foot wasn’t a good idea. Perhaps she was a little more drunk still than she’d thought.

“Rachel, shhhh, Ryan and Allison are sleeping right there,” Quinn hissed, pointing at the tent.

“This isn’t funny,” Rachel repeated at a much quieter volume... with the same intensity.

“It’s pretty funny,” Quinn snickered, closing the crate and securely looping her arm back around Rachel’s waist. “You’re not slurring anymore but you’re still swaying.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Rachel whimpered, headbutting Quinn’s shoulder unhappily.

“Okay, no more teasing, I promise. Let’s just get you back to bed.” Quinn turned her around and carefully walked her towards their own tent.

“I can’t believe I miss the tent bed,” Rachel grumbled, happily stumbling into said tent and flopping down on the air mattress once Quinn had the door open.

“It’ll grow on you,” Quinn said with a smirk.


	10. Flashback

Rachel didn’t have the best grasp on time, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair wedged between   
Allison and Ryan. No matter how often she looked up at the clock it never felt like the hands had moved at all. One hour, two hours, three, four – time slipped by at a damnable crawl, leaving her with too much time to herself, memories all jumbled together as she continued to rub at her hands, seeking to soothe an itch that she was certain would never go away. 

She thought of Quinn first thing in the mornings, of her crooked smile and goofy behavior – and then she’d flash to the memory of Quinn’s eyes dimming, face going paler than normal, lips turning white. When she’d shake her head or gasp and jar the image away it was only to drop her back into another happy memory, which would inevitably lead right back to Quinn covered in blood, feet kicking, and chest working double time to try and get oxygen into her flooded lungs. 

Allison’s hands never strayed from Rachel’s hair, the soft stroking soothing and yet odd at the same time, and Ryan’s arm, looped around both Allison and Rachel, was heavy, familiar and comforting but also wrong.

Everything they did, no matter how sweet, only reminded her all over again that Quinn wasn’t there. 

She felt like she’d lived lifetimes in that chair by the time the doors opened and a doctor appeared like some sort of angel in scrubs.

Or a devil, if the news he had to deliver wasn’t… 

Rachel’s throat closed up immediately upon the sight of him, her stomach rolled, and a new wave of tears joined the others still drying on her cheeks and neck. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even get a whisper of a whimper past her lips as she looked up at the man who had held Quinn’s life, ever so fragile, in his hands.   
This man with his powder blue scrubs, grey streaked dark curly hair, and tired gray eyes. 

He took in all of their faces in turn, lips set in a thin line, and Rachel was sure that it was over. That was it; Quinn was gone. 

Then he spoke, so very gently, and said those magical words that Rachel had started to believe were impossible. 

Quinn was alive.

He used phrases like “touch and go”, “close observation”, and “pulmonary edema”, but all Rachel really heard was “alive”.

Alive.

“There was some extensive damage to her lung and chest, but the bullet missed her heart. We’ve sedated her and she’s on a ventilator right now, but she should make a full recovery.”

Cam started to cry. Sean thanked the doctor while Ryan swayed backwards as if pushed by an invisible breeze, Allison squeezed Rachel tightly, and Rachel… Rachel struggled to remember how to breathe.  
She was alive! Alive, despite the damage done to her lung and chest – her heart was still beating, and she’d wake up and be able to go home.

“C – can I see her?” Rachel croaked out, her plea so quiet that the doctor asked her to repeat herself.

Rachel stood, knees knocking together, dots swimming in her vision, and fingers tangled together against her queasy stomach. She’d never felt weaker in her life. Never. She could feel Ryan, his palm warm and steady against the small of her back, helping her stay upright. “Please,” she said, lips trembling around the word. “Please, can I see her? I n-need to see her - I have to see her. I’m begging you, please.”

“She’s just out of surgery. She needs some time in recovery before…” he stopped his rational explanations when Rachel reached out and grasped his wrist.

“Please,” she repeated.

“Give her an hour, okay?” he sighed and took Rachel’s hand into his, giving it a light squeeze with the barest of pressure to reassure her that it wasn’t the end of the world. “I’ll send a nurse to come get you.” He glanced around at the small crowd hovering around Rachel and smiled. “She’s a fighter, and with your support I’m certain she’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Cam said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

\---

By the time the nurse came to tell Rachel she could go back and see Quinn it was very early in the morning. Cam and Sean had gone back to Quinn’s apartment to get some sleep; Cam hadn’t wanted to go but Sean had quietly mentioned the baby and that was all it took. Allison reluctantly left about an hour later, and only after Ryan insisted. He’d fallen asleep not long after they left, scrunched up on the uncomfortable hospital loveseat, spooning Rachel tightly to him. She appreciated the warmth and the slight comfort she got from having his strong arms around her, but it also made her crave Quinn that much more because the embrace was so markedly different. He was bulky and hard and smelled faintly of his cologne and soap, the rasp of his facial hair unfamiliar against the back of her neck. Quinn was lean and curved, soft, and smelled like citrus and sunshine. She certainly didn’t have a scratchy beard.

Still, Rachel was careful when she extracted herself from Ryan’s heavy arm, grateful for him and his attempts to keep her from losing what little sanity she had left to cling to. She didn’t want to wake him and the nurse at the desk said she’d tell him where she’d gone.

As she followed the other nurse back she felt her heart climb higher and higher up her throat as they neared the private room they’d placed Quinn in. The nurse turned around, like she was about to say something but her mouth snapped shut when she saw Rachel’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered, wiping at her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“May I hug you?” the nurse asked, and Rachel sniffled hard and nodded. Unfamiliar arms closed around her and Rachel didn’t hesitate to hug the kind stranger back, craving anything that might make her feel human again. Like there wasn’t a gaping hole everyone could see - the part normally filled by Quinn so obviously missing. “She’s doing really well, I promise. It might be a bit of a shock though to see her. I want you to be prepared.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, swallowing hard as she stepped back from the loose embrace.

“She’s on a ventilator for the night and there’s some padding on her chest along with the heart monitor and an IV. It looks scary, but she’s strong and doing really well,” the nurse continued. “There is a sleep recliner in the room; Dr. Grace thought you might want that. I’m Lacy, by the way, and if you need anything I’ll be on the floor until ten and then Nurse Kieran will be here.”

Rachel nodded, eternally grateful for the wonderful staff, but then Lacy smiled and opened the door for her and Rachel was right back to feeling like she was drowning.

The room had minimal lighting and it was cold as Rachel stepped in. She sucked in a deep breath as she saw the hospital bed and she closed her eyes tightly, pausing for a moment to try and center herself before she really looked at Quinn in that bed. The beep of the heart rate monitor remained steady, pulsing in the background like a metronome, and she tuned herself to it until she could almost feel it in her head. On top of that sound, and far less comforting to Rachel’s ears, was the rasp and hiss of the ventilator forcing air into Quinn’s lungs.

Feeling brave enough to look, Rachel took another fortifying breath and opened her eyes.

She couldn’t believe it was Quinn in there looking so very frail with all the tubes and wires leading from her body. The ventilator hissed again and her chest moved up, then rasped out and her chest collapsed, and then Rachel collapsed as her knees went out from under her.

Barely catching herself before she hit the floor, Rachel stumbled forward on shaking legs and somehow made it to the small chair next to the bed.

“Quinn,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying. Quinn couldn’t answer - she knew that - but she couldn’t help herself.

Quinn’s hand was cold when Rachel scooped it up, which wasn’t overly surprising because Quinn was always cold, but Rachel didn’t want her to be cold. It was something small that she felt like she could fix when there was just so much else she couldn’t help right now, because she’d been warming Quinn for what felt like years now. Quinn, who was almost always freezing and yet gave off more heat than Rachel could bear most nights, always sought Rachel out for warmth, and Rachel always gave it.

Reaching behind her sloppily, she found the arm of the chair, yanked it forward, and dropped onto it. She wrapped both of her hands around Quinn’s and brought it up to her mouth, exhaling on it and rubbing her hands against Quinn’s soft skin. Looking across Quinn’s still body she saw the other hand laying there, probably equally as chilly, but the IV made her nervous. She didn’t want to do anything that could disturb Quinn’s treatment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, breath hitching painfully as she finally turned to look at Quinn’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

Another push from the ventilator made Quinn’s lungs inflate and Rachel lost the fragile control she’d had. The first sob hit her with such force that she felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, and then the floodgates were open. Keeping hold of Quinn’s limp hand she brought it to her mouth and shakily kissed her knuckles, trembling all over.

“I lo- I love you,” she whimpered, barely able to speak, and set the now warm palm against her cheek. “Quinn, I love you so m-much and I need you to get better. Please get better.”

“I didn’t know it could be like this and you showed me - you showed me what it’s really like to love someone.” Rachel remembered, faintly, thinking that she’d been in love with Finn, but that feeling wasn’t anything like what she had with Quinn. It couldn’t hold a candle to it, and as hard as leaving Finn had been the idea of losing Quinn was truly devastating. “Now that I’ve had you, I can’t... I don’t want it to go away. I don’t want to wake up without you. You have to get better Quinn, you have to because I love you and I need you here.”

As carefully as she could, Rachel set her head down on Quinn’s stomach. She needed it, needed feel the warmth of Quinn’s body against her skin. Her stomach moved under Rachel’s head with every forced breath, and it was an artificial comfort, but comfort nonetheless. Crying into Quinn’s hospital blanket, she shuddered, wishing and praying that she would never have to feel this helpless again. It was excruciating. All she wanted in the world was to hear Quinn’s voice, see her eyes, and know that it was okay. Quinn always made everything okay, but she couldn’t now, because she’d sacrificed herself - again - for Rachel’s safety.

\---

Cam didn’t sleep well at all, which was to be expected, but it was made worse by being in Quinn’s silent apartment. Tokens of Quinn’s life tangled with mementos of Rachel all over her home crept up on Cam, along with the memories - a touch bittersweet but also pleasant - of visiting Quinn with Abbey and the few times she and Sean had made the trip to spend time in that little (cozy, Quinn always indignantly insisted) apartment. Laughing over dinner. Seeing Rachel’s show. Watching her baby sister fall completely, ridiculously in love. She was so obvious about it, and Cam couldn’t resist teasing her every chance she got. Then again, after spending time around Rachel, Cam was convinced there wasn’t a person in the world who could avoid falling in love with the loud, enthusiastic, beautiful woman.

She’d called Sean’s mother first thing in the morning, assuring her that they were fine, and then spoke to Abbey briefly. It had been hard to leave her daughter in the middle of the night; Abbey didn’t understand, and Cam hated having to tell her that her beloved Aunt Q was hurt and in the hospital. It was even harder to talk around how hurt Quinn was, and tears stung her eyes as she agreed that Abbey could talk to Quinn when she was feeling better.

When they made it back to the hospital the first thing Cam saw was Quinn’s partner - Ryan, she vaguely remembered his name being. Quinn had mentioned him before, but Cam hadn’t had the opportunity to actually formally meet him.

He was sitting in the same place he’d been when they’d left, but Rachel was missing. Not that Cam was surprised at all. Ryan had his head in his hands, his messy brown hair further rumpled, and was still wearing those blue scrubs that were too short for his long frame.

Sean cleared his throat and Ryan looked over at them, blue eyes bloodshot and agonized. Cam found herself at a loss for words because, what exactly could she say? Hi?

“Any news?” she finally asked. “Is Rachel...”

“I haven’t heard much; Rachel’s still with her,” he answered. Scrubbing his hands over his hair he stood up with a wince. “I’m sorry I don’t know more. You could probably go back now. They’re in room 411.”

“You stayed here all night,” Sean stated bluntly, not surprised in the slightest.

Cam had known he would stay - she’d known it from the moment she’d seen him with Rachel. He was going to guard them, if not out of a sense of duty then out of love for these women. “Thank you, Agent Peterson.”

“Ryan, Mrs. Rhoades,” he corrected gently with a weak smile. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“You can call me Cam,” she told him, folding her hands over her stomach.

“Do you think you could keep some breakfast down?” Sean asked, kissing the side of Cam’s head and giving her a small push towards the nurses station.

Leaving the men behind to work out food, Cam followed the nurse’s directions, moving down the corridor in a daze. As she came to a stop at the door, she found she couldn’t bring herself to open it, not yet.

She couldn’t get the memory to go away of a little Lucy coming into her room in the middle of the night, dragging her baby blanket and hiccuping quietly. Lucy had nightmares regularly, and God knows she couldn’t have crawled into bed with their parents. She’d tried it once - only once - and then it fell to Cam to soothe her fears and share the safety of her room with her sister. Now she felt like the one sneaking into her sister’s room looking for sanctuary from a nightmare that was all too real.

With a shaky breath she forced herself to slowly open the door, not wanting to startle Rachel. She took her time, and if she was honest, it was mostly because she was still afraid of what she would be seeing.

The first thing she noticed was Rachel, her dark hair drawing Cam’s eyes immediately, asleep with her head resting on Quinn’s stomach. Cam couldn’t see her face at all but she saw movement corresponding with the scratchy whisper-type sound of the ventilator. She stepped further into the room, continuing to watch Rachel’s head rise and fall with Quinn’s stomach, and found herself unable to look away, to look at any more of her sister.

“Rachel?” She called softly, hoping to gently wake her. Instead, Rachel twisted slightly, still asleep, her hand sliding protectively across Quinn’s body and clutching at the blankets.

“You found someone else to make the nightmares go away,” Cam murmured, swallowing hard as she finally turned to see her sister’s face.

It was still Quinn, of course it was; she didn’t know why she’d expected otherwise, but she’d thought for a moment that she might look different. She didn’t, but Cam noted how Quinn still managed to be beautiful - tragically so - surrounded by tubes and wires. 

“I - I don’t know if you can hear me,” Cam said, swiping at tears. “Quinn, I...” Reaching out, she carefully picked up Quinn’s hand and winced at the bruise already forming on the pale skin. Sniffling, Cam dragged the other chair in the room up so she could sit and take some of the strain off of her aching, swollen feet. As she stroked her fingers over the soft skin at the back of Quinn’s hand she struggled to find the words she needed.

“Why do you have to be so damn brave all the time?” she finally asked, voice cracking over the expletive. “We all love it about you, but... Quinn, you just - why is it always you? I don’t understand - whoever’s pulling the strings has it out for you and it’s not fair.”

“I know why you did it,” she continued quietly, glancing again at Rachel. “Rachel is - you love her and I’m so sorry that I ever questioned that. I know that you would do the same thing for any of us, but especially for her; this wasn’t her fault or yours, Quinn.”

“I need to thank you, you know. You helped me when you didn’t have to, especially after I left you behind to deal with Mom and Russell.” Cam ducked her head, still embarrassed after all these years. She’d left a child alone, knowing full well what went on under that roof between Quinn and their father. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that enough. I was a child, too, and that’s not an excuse, but it was the one I used. And I know that being here now doesn’t make up for that, but I am here now and I’m not leaving you again. Whenever you need me, if you need me, I’m going to be in your corner. Always. You can come to me like you did when you were little and had a bad dream, and I’ll still be here.”

Cam struggled back up to her feet, stooping to very gently kiss Quinn’s forehead. “I have to call Mom. She’s trying to be better for us, Quinn - for you - and I’m dreading making this call because it’s going to... It’s going to wreck her. I think she’s going to want to be here, but I don’t know how you feel about that.”

She glanced at Rachel again and licked at her lips, nervous at just the thought of how the conversation with Judy might go. While their mother had never outright condemned Quinn for the relationship, Cam knew it was a touchy subject with Quinn. She also knew that Quinn would want to be awake, conscious and present to defend Rachel if necessary. Cam really hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but there really was only one way to insure that. She could help Quinn in this small way. “I think - I think it’s obvious that you would want to protect Rachel, so that’s what I’m going to do. If when you wake up you change your mind - if you want Mom here - then I’ll leave that to you.”

Hesitating at the door, Cam turned back and saw Rachel still sprawled out on top of Quinn, clearly exhausted but unwilling to leave. As she walked out she chewed on her bottom lip pensively, toying with her phone and trying to get her words organized ahead of time. Looking down, she realized she’d tapped in the number by heart; raising the phone to her ear, she sent up a silent prayer and hit “send”.

The line rang and rang.

Finally, it clicked.

“Hello?”

“Mom...”


	11. Present

There were certain things about being with Rachel that Quinn had made peace with. Yes, she was constantly singing, or humming, or drumming her fingers on whatever available surface. Yes, she still ranted on and on about whatever was on her mind and Quinn would have to sit there and marvel at the fact that she could go that long without a breath. Mostly, Quinn had come to think of all Rachel’s quirks as adorable - and would admit that in high school she had thought so too. However there was one thing Quinn had yet to grow accustomed to...

And that would be the way that Rachel woke up.

No matter how many times it happened, Quinn was never quite prepared for how Rachel would come out of her dreams. Sometimes it was gentle; she would be groggy and sweet and barely coherent. 

Then there were the other times.

The morning after Rachel’s adventure to the comfort station Quinn was very rudely awakened when a small hand limply struck her in the face.

Shocked and immediately on full alert, Quinn’s eyes snapped open to find Rachel, complete with grumpy face, still sleeping. Actually, once Quinn took a moment to relax and regain her bearings she decided that Rachel looked completely adorable, almost like grumpy cat, with her frown and furrowed forehead. With her hair all mussed and that cute pout...

“Rachel,” she singsonged, deciding to wake Rachel a little more gently than she had been. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain who the face-slapping culprit had been; she didn’t need to be an FBI agent to figure that out. No mystery there. “Rach, are you ranting at someone in dreamland? Will you sleep talk for me?”

“Don’t tickle my Elmo; it hurts,” Rachel mumbled, pout deepening and hand flailing about again.

Quinn dodged the wild hand and then caught it with her own, holding it captive against her chest. “I would never tickle your Elmo... unless you asked me to.”

Giggling at her own cleverness, Quinn leaned in to kiss that scrunched forehead.

“Noooo,” Rachel moaned, tugging at Quinn’s hand. “Drive faster, Q, drive faster! There’s gummy bears in the backseat!”

“Wait, are we trying to get away from the gummy bears? Am I protecting them?” Quinn pondered, lifting an eyebrow. She wished she could see exactly what it was Rachel was dreaming - Rachel seemed to have the best dreams. “Tell me something else.”

“Lucy Q, where are you?” Rachel grumbled, head jerking on her pillow. Quinn could see her eyes flickering back and forth under her closed eyelids.

“Rachel, if you’re having a Scooby-Doo dream again in which I am the dog and you are Daphne, we’re going to have words when you wake up,” Quinn warned with an ineffectual glare.

Rachel hummed and acted like she was about to respond when suddenly the entire tent started to shake and a low, rumbly, animal type sound that was clearly Ryan reached Quinn’s ears.

Rolling her eyes, Quinn twisted to tell him to go to Hell, right as Rachel woke up.

“There’s a bear!” she wailed, fighting with the blankets. Quinn barely managed to grab her and clamp a hand over her mouth before she could scream.

“There’s no bear. I repeat, no bear. Stand down. Situation normal. It’s just Ryan who is about to be shot by my terrified girlfriend,” Quinn warned, loud enough for her partner to stop his antics.

The tent ceased its shaking and the growls petered out. “Don’t shoot! I come in peace.”

“Ryan Allen Peterson!” Rachel scolded once Quinn removed her hand. “So help me...”

“Sorry, um, I got the fire going and do you guys want breakfast?” Ryan asked timidly.

“We’ll make our own breakfast when we feel like being awake and aren't being forced into it by an idiot pretending to be Smokey,” Quinn snarled, pulling Rachel back down into their blanket nest.

“My bad... back to dreamland,” Ryan said, heavy steps clomping away from their tent.

“That is not a good way to wake up,” Rachel huffed, burrowing back into Quinn.

“Hm, might be better than a slap to the face,” Quinn commented, threading her fingers into dark hair and nuzzling against the crown of Rachel’s head.

“That would be awful,” Rachel agreed sleepily, already warm and happy again.

Quinn tried not to laugh, she really did, and she held as still as possible, eventually feeling when Rachel put two and two together because she inhaled so hard her whole body moved.

“I didn’t.”

“Well someone was trying to tickle your Elmo, so I totally understand,” Quinn teased, arching away from Rachel and choking on a giggle at Rachel’s horrified expression. “I’m teasing you. It didn’t hurt; I was just surprised.”

“I’m so sorry!” Rachel cried from behind her hands. “Oh my God!”

Unsurprised by the dramatic reaction, Quinn laughed, gently pulling Rachel’s hands off her mouth. “Rach, see how I’m laughing? Not mad.”

“But I - “

“What I really want to know,” Quinn interrupted, tugging Rachel back into her chest. “Is what gummy bears were doing in the back seat?”

Rachel groaned, knocking her head against Quinn’s sternum a couple of times. “At least I didn’t sing this time.”

“I love when you sleep sing to me,” Quinn said, fondly recalling the various garbled love songs she’d been serenaded with. “Even when you’re unconscious you have things to say to me.”

“Stop,” Rachel whined. “We don’t talk about it.”

Quinn snickered and ducked her head to lightly kiss the ear peeking out from Rachel’s hair. “You didn’t even believe me when I told you - I was forced to record it.”

“It’s not the singing! It’s the fact that I sing the wrong lyrics. That’s as bad as forgetting them!”

“It’s so cute though,” Quinn argued. “You’re so earnest about it and the power ballad fist that one time... I love it.”

“So embarrassing,” Rachel mumbled but tilted her head up to kiss Quinn’s chin. “Promise you won’t ever tell anyone else?”

“I promise that, just like skinny dipping, your adorkable habit of sleep singing to me shall remain for my eyes and ears only,” Quinn vowed. “However, we are about to have a talk about something very serious.”

“Now what? I didn’t bite you again, did I?” Rachel paused after she said it, wondering if maybe she should start writing down her dreams. The vampire one had most likely been caused by the True Blood marathon she and Allison had. It had ended with Rachel having a very nice dream about Quinn starring as Sookie... and then she’d been pulled from that dream when Quinn started shrieking. Shrieking because Rachel, caught up in said dream, had bitten Quinn’s shoulder. Not hard enough to draw blood, thank God, because that would have been unbelievably gross and horrifying and Quinn would have been furious. Still, she’d left a nice indentation of her teeth behind in Quinn’s skin and the bruise had been, for lack of a better way of describing it, spectacular. 

“No,” Quinn shook her head, also remembering waking up to the searing pain of Rachel’s teeth digging into her bare shoulder. “But thank you for reminding me of that traumatic incident.”

“It was an accident!” Rachel defended shrilly. “You know how active my imagination is!”

“Yes, I am very aware. I could list evidence to prove how well I know,” Quinn sighed. “But what I was going to ask is if you’re going to make up for the fact that you semi-smacked me?”

“Hm...” Rachel hummed, narrowing her eyes as though deeply pondering the suggestion. “I believe I also owe you for your bravery in coming to rescue me from the clutches of the cave dwellers or cannibalistic forest-dwelling hillbillies.”

“Is this a ‘My Hero’ moment?” Quinn asked, slipping her hands under Rachel’s sweatshirt.

Rachel giggled and leaned up to whisper directly in Quinn’s ear. “My Hero.”

Quinn shivered, rolling Rachel with a growl. “Again.”

“Mah Hero,” Rachel rasped again, this time complete with a Western accent.

“Just doing my job, Ma’am,” Quinn responded, more than happy to play along. Dipping her head, she kissed the smirk right off Rachel’s face. “I am so buying you one of those ridiculous cowboy hats from the gas station on our way back.”

“Shut up and let me get back to making up,” Rachel ordered, yanking Quinn back down.

The hand slapping incident was practically completely forgotten; in fact Quinn could barely remember her name when Rachel was doing that. Quinn squealed when Rachel flipped them, laughing at the triumphant look on Rachel’s face. Her laugh was short lived, however, as Rachel wasted little time in attempting to fuse their mouths back together. One hand snaked it’s way under the open collar of Quinn’s shirt, nimble fingers quickly finding the puckered scar on her chest.

“Hey!” Ryan bellowed, shaking the tent again. “If I’m not getting any this weekend - which is a travesty bee-tee-dub - I’m not going to sit out here and listen to you two!”

“Busted,” Quinn snickered, lifting her head up for a chaste farewell kiss.

“Ryan, I have two dads, I do not need another one,” Rachel huffed, slumping back down onto Quinn’s chest. “Go away.”

“No,” he pouted and kicked the tent. “It’s breakfast time!”

“You’re a toddler,” Rachel shot back indignantly.

“Come out and join the rest of the sexually frustrated world!”

“Oh my God, can you please stop,” Quinn groaned wondering what had happened to her morning. One minute she was happy and warm and rolling around with Rachel and the next... “I have a headache in my eye.”

“Ryan, leave them alone!” Allison shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“I’m not coming out unless you make me,” Rachel shouted, ignoring Allison’s help. Really, she didn’t mind the idea of eating some breakfast, but she was enjoying ‘playing’ with Ryan. “There’s nature out there and Quinn in here. No contest.”

“Ugh, next time I’m hiring a sitter for you two and Allison and I will go camping without you,” Quinn muttered, still trapped under Rachel.

“You leave me no choice,” Ryan warned as the tent door started to open.

Rachel shrieked - loudly - and clung tightly to Quinn, expecting him to reach in and try and pry them apart. “No! You can’t make me!”

But it wasn’t Ryan who suddenly entered their tent, oh no; it was eighty pounds of wiggly, happy German Shorthaired Pointer. Semper jumped right on top of her other two favorite people in the whole world, her giant paws stepping on hair and faces and bodies, slobbery mouth and cold nose assaulting cheeks and mouths... and one unfortunate eyeball.

“Ryan!” three voices chorused. 

\---

Having been forcibly removed from their cozy ‘black hole tent’ as Rachel called it, Rachel sulked a little in her camp chair, but brightened considerably when Quinn presented her with vegan pancakes.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Allison questioned around a mouthful of real pancake. She side-eyed Ryan, who was in “time out” sitting on the other side of the fire from her, pouting over his breakfast like the giant toddler he’d been accused of being.

“You mean after the temperature returns to normal?” Rachel asked, cuddling up to Quinn as best she could with her plate of food. 

“Spoiled,” Ryan teased, unable to resist continuing to bait Rachel. “A hike to the lake and some fishing? Catch and release of course, so I don’t offend certain people, and then ribs for dinner!”

“A hike to the lake? The lake that is right here?” Quinn pointed, gesturing to the body of water in question, just down from their tents.

“I fail to see how releasing the poor fish is going to make me feel better when you’re going to be consuming dead cow... or piggies, for dinner,” Rachel grumbled. 

“Rachel, you promised,” Quinn scolded lightly, unable to keep from smiling. 

“Fine,” Rachel sighed heavily, producing the most frightening fake smile Ryan had ever seen. “Yay, hiking.”

Allison, having seen that smile before, started to laugh at Ryan’s horrified expression and Quinn had to smother her own laughter behind a hand. 

“Demon!” Ryan cried, so loudly that it echoed off the trees. Dipping his fingers into his orange juice he flung the drops of citrusy liquid in Rachel’s direction, only to repeat the process when she screeched in response. “The power of Christ compels you!”

“Ryan!” Rachel and Quinn yelled, struggling to get away from the orange juice. 

“Not in my hair!” Rachel continued, shrieking in panic when her frantic movements tipped the chair back. 

Allison doubled over in laughter as the chair upended, two pairs of legs kicking up in the air, empty plates flying. “Stop, oh my God, I can’t!”

Ryan ceased tossing droplets and grinned roguishly down at Allison who was wiping tears out of her eyes. “Don’t worry, babe, I saved us.”

“Mah hero,” Allison lisped in a fair impersonation of Rachel earlier and batted her eyelashes over at him.

“Hey!” Quinn cried, as indignantly as she could flat on her back with her feet still in the air.

“Plagiarism!” Rachel squeaked, her head popping up over the upturned chair with a glare. “I also find it rude that you were eavesdropping!”

“It’s not eavesdropping if you nearly shout it from your tent - tent walls are not actual walls,” Ryan quoted smugly. 

“I whispered it,” Rachel hissed, blushing bright red. 

“Rachel, honey, I love you, but you don’t know how to whisper. You stage whisper every time,” Allison chuckled. 

“Well...” Rachel huffed. “I have been training for the stage since I was a child; apparently some lessons are hard to forget.”

“I’m dying to know about the Scooby Doo dream,” Ryan said, quirking an eyebrow over at his friends. 

“We don’t talk about it!” Rachel denied.

“Ryan,” Quinn warned, getting to her feet and hoisting Rachel up with her. 

“All right, all right, no need to go all Mommy Bear,” Ryan said, holding his hands up in surrender. “We’ll attempt to ignore the pillow talk and make no mention of it again.”

“We’re only teasing,” Allison told them. “We don’t mean to upset you.”

“Just remember,” Rachel said, shaking a finger at them. “Payback is a bitch.”

“And I’m head bitch,” Quinn added with a wolfish grin. 

“In Charge,” Rachel included with a somber nod.


	12. Flashback

Rachel had not been asleep, actually, when Cam came in. She wasn’t sure she’d ever sleep again at this point. Not until things were right once more. Not until she had Quinn back. Still, though she wasn’t leaving Quinn’s side again until someone literally picked her up and carried her out, she’d feigned sleep to allow Cam to have her moment. It sounded like she’d needed it. Rachel actually had to bite into the blanket at one point to keep from whimpering and giving herself away. As much as she’d cried it seemed she had an endless supply of tears always ready to go.

Rachel waited awhile before “waking up” and was greeted by the sight of a watery eyed Cam smiling at her from across the bed.

“Hi,” Cam murmured weakly, almost shyly, and Rachel’s chest tightened just a bit further because she sounded like Quinn.

“Oh, Cam, hello,” Rachel replied, frowning at the husky sound that escaped her and clearing her throat before continuing. “How long have you...?”

“About 30 minutes or so.”

Rachel nodded, turning her attention back to Quinn. She could have been asleep; if it wasn’t for the tube in her mouth, Rachel would have thought she was. That she would wake up at any minute asking why she was in the hospital.

“Are you alright?” she would ask - because Quinn always asked about Rachel first. 

“She looks peaceful,” Cam commented softly. “Like a fairy tale princess waiting for true love’s kiss, or something.”

“I almost tried it,” Rachel told her, reaching up to carefully brush some hair back behind Quinn’s ear. “Quinn would think it was funny, I think, even if it worked.”

“Yeah, she’s not a big believer in fairy tale magic,” Cam said. “Harry Potter she’ll buy in to, but fairy tales always made her roll her eyes.”

“It’s the perfection of it,” Rachel quoted, closing her eyes to remember every detail of that conversation. She could easily recall Quinn’s exasperation, the tilt of her smile and gleam in her eyes betraying her amusement at Rachel’s insistence that fairy tales were just as magical as Harry Potter and perhaps more romantic than anything Nicholas Sparks could cook up. “Nothing is ever that perfect and picturesque, and love is never that simple.”

“I think it’s more to do with the princesses than the magic,” Cam said, then laughed a little, stopping short like she’d realized she was laughing and was afraid she’d offended someone. “Uh, you know, the damsel in distress thing. It always pissed her off.”

“Quinn’s more like the knight in shining armor than the damsel,” Rachel snorted, shaking her head. 

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“Oh no, don’t do that; she’ll break out the skirts and dresses again just to prove she can be a badass without the manly armor, lance, and steed.”

“Right, because Quinn is so very manly,” Cam laughed again, stronger this time, no longer afraid of the sound.

“Can you imagine her chasing down some jerk in a sundress?” Rachel asked and rolled her eyes. ”I tried to once.”

“Nope,” Cam shook her head, smiling fondly at her sister. “But you know if we told her that she’d just say ‘challenge accepted’ and attempt it just to be right.”

Rachel nodded slowly, thinking about all the times Quinn had driven her to fits of giggles over “challenge accepted”. “It’s kind of fun when you do it on purpose. Come up with something ridiculous that she’d never do and then watch her do it just to spite you.”

“I hear a story...” Cam prompted, gesturing with her free hand for Rachel to go on.

“One time I was watching ice skating on television with Quinn and I said something about how they were real athletes, not like cheerleaders. Which isn’t true, of course, but you should have seen the look on her face. The next day we were at Rockefeller, and she said “challenge accepted”, stepped out onto the ice and promptly fell on her ass. It was so much fun, even though we were both super sore and tired the day after.”

“You two are too cute for words,” Cam said.

With a blush burning her cheeks, Rachel ducked her head and clutched a little harder at Quinn’s hand. “I don’t feel so cute right now.”

“She’s here, she’s alive, and you will be right back to being obnoxiously adorable together in no time,” Cam promised. “And next time you go skating I want an invite; Abbey would love it.”

“Deal,” Rachel said, hoping that it would happen sooner than it seemed while Quinn was still breathing with the assistance of the ventilator. She fell back into silence, her thoughts too busy working over the past to stay away from the ache of the present. Quinn’s hand was no longer cold, laying limp in hers, and Rachel circled her thumb against the soft, chapped skin again out of reflex. 

Cam cleared her throat lightly several minutes later. “Did - do you know when the breathing tube comes out?”

Rachel shook her head, eyes immediately going to the ventilator, her breath catching in her lungs until Quinn exhaled. “I don’t know.”

Any further questions or attempts at conversation were abruptly postponed when the door opened and Sean came in carrying a small bag that smelled so strongly of pastry that Rachel could smell it over the scent of “hospital”. That wasn’t so surprising in itself, but the hulk of Conrad Schulte coming in behind him caught her off guard. Schulte looked completely out of place in his suit, badge sitting cockeyed on his hip. He was massive, as always, shaped like a linebacker and filling up the doorway, his curly haired head near the top of the door. Tall like Finn but far burlier – if Finn could be described as a horse, Conrad would have been a bull. Rachel would have been intimidated the first time she met him if it weren’t for the sweet look on his face and the stumbling way that he talked. Quinn had compared him to a Saint Bernard on multiple occasions, generally followed by a snorted laugh and shake of her head. 

Still, seeing him in Quinn’s hospital room immediately set her on edge. He could have been there to see Quinn, his boss, but the lack of flowers in his hand and the nervous look on his face told her otherwise.

“Hi, uh, Ms. Berry, and you must be Mrs. Rhoades,” Conrad said, fidgeting just inside the room. “I ran into Agent Peterson and Mr. Rhoades on my way in.”

“Where is Ryan?” Rachel asked, nodding slightly when Cam shot her a quick look. “It’s okay, Cam, Agent Schulte was waiting for me to introduce him, I’m sure. He works with Quinn.”

Conrad continued to fidget and blushed lightly. “Sorry, Qui - Agent Fabray says she’s trying to teach me manners.” He looked quickly at the hospital bed and looked just as quickly away, his fidgeting fingers ceasing their movement to curl into tight fists. “Agent Peterson got a call; he’ll be back soon, but uh, Ms. Berry I’m here offi - I need to - can I talk to you, please?”

“I’m not leaving Quinn,” Rachel stated with a shake of her head. They’d have to pry her away with a crowbar if they wanted her to leave Quinn’s side. “Conrad, I know you’re just doing your job but I made a promise.”

“Rach, we won’t leave Quinn, and you should probably eat something,” Sean put in quietly. “Even if it’s just a half a banana. And I’m sure Agent Schulte will be very courteous and kind while he’s asking you questions.” He shot the taller man a warning look, which would have been funny if Rachel wasn’t too busy trying not to panic about not being with Quinn. 

Schulte nodded very exaggeratedly, “Of course. It won’t take very long, I swear. I have some routine questions and...”

“Why can’t you ask here?” Rachel wondered out loud, turning away from Conrad’s face to look at Quinn. “I promised her I wouldn’t leave – everybody leaves and I promised that I wouldn’t.” Not again, she thought silently, guilt threatening to throw her back into tears. If she hadn’t left, if she’d just stayed and forced Quinn to talk more – if they’d just been honest with one another from the get go, if she’d taken five minutes to calm down and dismissed her more dramatic tendencies they wouldn’t be in the hospital. Quinn wouldn’t be… “I’m not leaving her,” she repeated resolutely. “And you can’t make me.”

“Rachel.” Sean shuffled around the foot of the bed and knelt down at Rachel’s side. She refused to look down at him but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. “Quinn is going to kick my ass if I don’t take care of you while she’s temporarily unable. You need to eat something and – “

“I am so tired of everyone acting like I need looking after,” Rachel snapped, jerking away from Sean’s hand. “I’m a grown woman, fully capable of making my own decisions and taking care of myself. I’m not a child, so stop treating me like one.”

“Rachel,” Cam said, but Rachel held up her free hand.

“No. Just stop it, okay? I really can’t handle any more people trying to take care of me.” Rachel was more than prepared to continue to shoot down any further arguments, but she was not prepared for Schulte to thrust his phone into her face. 

“Rachel?” Ryan’s voice asked over the line, and she took the phone with a pointed glare over at Conrad.

“Ryan, where are you?”

“… Tying up some things.” He sighed heavily and Rachel’s eyes welled up again. “Tadpole, I know you don’t want to, but you need to cooperate with Conrad, okay? It’s important, and you know that. You don’t have to be happy about it, but he needs to get information from you. I promise that it will be fast and then you can go right back to Quinn.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Rachel asked, reflexively holding that much tighter to Quinn. 

“Sorry, Rach, we’re all just following orders; this one is Conrad’s.”

“I promised I wouldn’t leave her,” Rachel argued weakly.

“She’ll understand that you had to go for a couple of minutes. You’re not walking away or abandoning her, just stepping out for a second to help her. You want to help, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Rachel nodded, frowning. “You’re a jerk.”

He laughed wearily and Rachel felt her lips twitch into an almost-smile. “I know, you can hit me later. I should be there in an hour or so, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And Tadpole? Do me and Quinn a favor and eat something. If you pass out from lack of food and end up with an IV in your arm I’m going to draw a mustache on your face with a sharpie.”

“You wouldn’t,” Rachel narrowed her eyes.

“You know I will. A big handlebar mustache. Or maybe a fu-manchu... I haven’t decided yet.” 

“You are cruel and unusual, Ryan Peterson,” Rachel scolded then sighed heavily. “Fine. But if anything happens to Quinn while I’m gone I’m holding you accountable.”

“… Deal,” Ryan said hoarsely and Rachel wished she could take it back. 

“Bye.” She hung up the phone after Ryan’s farewell and handed the device off to Schulte. “I’ll go, but please be quick.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Schulte agreed, nodding vigorously. 

Rachel turned to Quinn, swallowing back the lump in her throat that reappeared every time she saw her ashen face. “I’ll be right back, baby,” she promised, leaning up to press a kiss to Quinn’s forehead. Letting go of her pale hand was one of the hardest things Rachel ever did, but Sean was quick to scoop it up with a warm smile.

“I’ll call you if anything changes,” he told her.

Walking out of the room seemed to take forever, with every step forward harder than the last, like she wading through mud. Conrad looped an arm around her shoulders as soon as she reached him and lead her out of the room with one last look back.

\---

“Ms. Berry, thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” Schulte said almost immediately after Rachel had gotten situated in her seat across from him. She glanced up from the oatmeal she was playing with and saw him fumbling with a pen and small notepad. 

“You can call me Rachel, Conrad; it’s not like we’ve never met before,” she reminded him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and scratched at the back of his neck. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve taken a witness statement, is it?”

“No.” He shook his head, staring at his pen for a long moment and then dropping it on the table. “I – Quinn is sort of my boss, you know, and she’s – please don’t tell her I said this because Ryan will torment me forever, but -- she’s sort of a hero.”

“It’s okay to look up to someone,” Rachel said, smiling sadly. “Quinn is equally fond of you.”

Conrad smiled back and let out a shuddery breath. “She’s very brave and kind of crazy sometimes but she’s always on top of things. I really hope that I can be as good an agent as she is someday… I want her to think I’m a good agent.”

“She does,” Rachel assured him, hesitating before setting her hand over on his. She marveled for a second at the sheer size of his hand compared to hers - it was like a baseball mitt. “She only ever has good things to say about you.”

“I want to – I want to kill that bastard that put her here,” he admitted, his jaw tightening and face growing slightly blotchy. 

“I understand.”

“That’s why I need your help, because she wouldn’t want any of us to do that and the only other thing I can do is make sure that he never sees the world without bars ever again.” He squeezed her hand ever so gently, and then reached for his pen. “Can – can you help me with that?”

Rachel nodded. 

“Tell me about Collin Curtis.”

\---

As soon as the interview was finished Schulte escorted her back to Quinn’s room and wrapped Rachel up in a hug just outside the door. “I’ll be back by later, not for… to bring some flowers…” He ducked his head shyly and started fidgeting again. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course you can bring flowers; Quinn will be delighted,” Rachel told him, charmed despite all her efforts to be annoyed with his intrusion on her vigil. 

“Cool... she’s not allergic to anything is she?”

“No, but if you want brownie points… she likes sunflowers,” Rachel whispered conspiratorially.

Conrad grinned widely and stuffed his hands into his pant pockets. “Okay, I’ll pick some up before I come back. Thanks again for talking to me.”

“Sure,” Rachel reached out for the door handle and paused. “Conrad?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me that you’ll fry that bastard.”

He nodded, “You got it.” 

Rachel watched him lumber off, fighting a smile at his obvious crush. The smile fell away almost as soon as she stepped back into Quinn’s room. Sean stood up from the chair she’d come to think of as hers and ducked his head sheepishly as she glared at him.

Quinn’s ventilator tube had been removed while she was gone.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, trying to appear calm and in control as she walked around to take back her place at Quinn’s side. “You said you would call me.”

“They just left not two minutes before you got back,” Cam explained, wincing when Rachel leveled a glare at her. “We were going to call but it didn’t take them long at all and… well there’s no change aside from that.”

“Why is she still asleep?” Panic bubbled up anew, twisting her insides up until she ached. Rachel watched Quinn’s face, hoping for some sign that she was still there. “Is – she’s not…”

“It’s not permanent,” Sean rushed to say. “She’s just sleeping. I can call the nurses back to explain it if you – “

“No, I – I trust you to tell me the truth,” Rachel said, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of the tears freshly gathered. “She’s going to wake up?”

Cam and Sean both nodded, sharing a smile over their tandem movement. “She’s sedated, but they said she’ll wake up on her own.”

Hope flared like the sun cresting the horizon, chasing away the agonizing panic. Rachel squeezed Quinn’s hand. “Did anyone – have you called Judy?”

“I spoke to her last night,” Cam said. “Or early this morning, I guess. I need to call her back, actually.”

“Is she coming up?” 

Cam’s hesitation said more to Rachel than words could and she sighed heavily, wondering if she should feel guilty about the relief she felt at the possibility of not having to face off with Judy. She also felt anger that Judy would even have to think about coming up to see Quinn – who had been shot. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Cam finally muttered.

“Is it because of me?” Rachel asked bluntly.

“I don’t know, Rachel. Mom and Quinn have a… strained relationship. I don’t think they know what to do with each other.”

“And I added a new complication to the mix,” Rachel finished glumly. 

“It’s not your fault,” Cam argued, blue eyes flashing. “Rachel, it’s not your fault. Mom has struggled to find her footing with Quinn for years and that’s more about Dad then you.”

“But I’m not helping – and Judy should be here.”

“Yeah, probably, but Quinn has learned not to need her and I’m not even sure she’d want her here. I was going to ask her when she woke up…”

Rachel nodded mutely, eyes inevitably drawn back to Quinn’s face, her heart fluttering wildly when she saw that some color had already returned to her cheeks. She sat back down, clutching Quinn’s hand in both of hers and offered a silent prayer that Quinn would wake soon. 

“I’m – I’m going to actually go call Mom now,” Cam announced abruptly moments later, perhaps perturbed by the silence that had fallen somewhat awkwardly over them. 

“You need to eat, too,” Sean reminded, pointing at the bag resting at the foot of Quinn’s bed. 

“Something your child has been demanding,” Cam said, rubbing gently at her belly. “Though it’s not overly appealing to me.”

Rachel smiled weakly. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Sean helped Cam stand from her chair, holding onto her gently while she caught her balance. Rachel watched them go and felt the smallest pang of longing somewhere deep. A yearning she hadn’t felt for the longest time rearing its head. 

“We’d have cute kids,” she commented lightly to Quinn. Thoughts of pregnant, sad Quinn were pushed aside, though Rachel shifted uncomfortably at the memory of Shelby and the hurt that soaked Quinn’s words whenever Beth was brought up. “I never said anything, but I thought you were adorable pregnant. Not exactly something appropriate to say to you then, I’d thought, maybe not something you’d want to hear now either. It is true though.”

“You’d be such a good Mom, Quinn,” she continued, thumb smoothing over Quinn’s knuckles. “You’re great with Abbey.”

Quinn didn’t respond, of course – not that Rachel was expecting her to really, but she was kind of hoping that the sound of her voice might rouse Quinn.

“I really want to see your eyes right now,” Rachel whispered. “Hear your voice.”

A new thought rose and Rachel almost scoffed, shocked that singing to Quinn hadn’t occurred to her sooner, but then wondered if that was too much. Maybe too dramatic even for her. 

It was too late – music and lyrics were already rushing through her – and the nearly uncontrollable urge had her firmly in its grasp. She cleared her throat lightly, ever a slave to her passion, and started softly, careful of her tender throat and rampaging emotions. 

Music had always spoken to her, always given her the ability to voice things that seemed too hard for regular words. The lyrics fell easily from her lips, entangled with feelings she had no other way of expressing. Her voice cracked gently, almost stylistically, tripping over phrases and adding a pained lilt so raw and real that it would have shocked her to hear a playback. 

So caught up in pouring her heart out to Quinn she missed the door opening, only looking up from Quinn’s stoic features when she finished the last phrase, lingering tenderly on the last word. Ryan had made some sort of strangled sound and was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“Ryan,” Rachel greeted hoarsely, trying to smile around trembling lips and soggy, burning eyes. 

“Sometimes I forget,” he replied softly, shaking his head. “Uh, Rachel, so…”

It was then that Rachel took notice of the smaller figure tucked just behind Ryan in the doorway. Deep auburn curls caught her attention first, and she peered curiously around Ryan to try and see more of this new person. 

It wasn’t until Ryan stepped aside to allow the woman into the room, however, that Rachel put the pieces together. 

Giant Disney Princess blue eyes met Rachel’s stare, glassy and almost guilty, but Millie - as this undoubtedly was - only bravely lifted her chin in the face of Rachel’s silent, less than subtle, anger. 

“Rachel, this is Millie,” Ryan introduced them with an unnecessary wave of his hand. “Millie, Rachel.”

“I know who this is,” Rachel snapped, trying to rein back her anger. She didn’t know Millie, or her story, and it probably wasn’t fair to judge her so harshly, but all Rachel could think of was that without Millie she and Quinn wouldn’t have been fighting. Uncharitable of her, perhaps, but she didn’t care – the anger felt fresh, cutting swiftly through the haze of sadness and guilt she’d been wallowing in. 

“Can you give us a moment?” Millie asked, and Rachel wanted to roll her eyes at the bright tone. Of course she’d have a darling Disney Princess voice to go with the rest of the package. Rachel wanted to ask just how old she was, because with that voice and face she could have been twenty. 

Ryan’s eyes widened briefly but he nodded stiffly when Millie looked up at him, raising her eyebrows rather pointedly. 

Rachel waited until Ryan left the room before she whisper yelled at Millie, not wanting to prematurely waken Quinn from her much needed rest by full on shouting.

“Haven’t you done enough lately? Why are you even here?” Rachel spat, clinging to Quinn for some sense of security. 

“Sorry?” Millie whispered right back in what Rachel imagined to be her fiercest tone - but all she heard was Minnie freakin’ Mouse. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“You’re sneaking around with my girlfriend and demanding her silence for whatever lead us directly here - of course it’s your fault!” Rachel snarled, utterly furious and seconds away from stamping her foot or maybe leaping across the bed to strangle the Ariel impersonator where she stood.

“I fail to see how your insecurities are my fault. I’m not the one who blew up at Quinn and I certainly am not the one who shot her.” Millie shrugged and stepped up to the bed, those stupid eyes of hers shining wetly as she scooped up Quinn’s free hand. “I didn’t even know she had a girlfriend, but I refuse to apologize for Quinn keeping my confidence. She’s a damn good friend for doing so.”

“Don’t touch her!” 

“Look,” Millie huffed, holding Quinn’s hand with both of hers rather than letting go. “Quinn is… she’s important to me, alright? And she’s in the hospital with a hole in her shoulder because she was trying to protect you. So screw you for trying to saddle me with all the blame. From where I’m standing this is your fault. You’re the one who declared her a cheater and walked out. Not me.” 

“You’re – you’re a bad friend,” Rachel accused thickly, reeling from the verbal bitch-slap that hit too close to home. 

“Yeah? Well you’re a lousy girlfriend!”

“God,” Quinn spoke up raspily and groaned weakly. “W - will you both be...shut up?”

“Quinn!”

Rachel frowned as Millie leapt just as eagerly to the top of the bed, almost directly mirroring Rachel’s actions, sweeping back blonde hair with a familiar tenderness that set Rachel’s blood to boiling instantly. 

“Water?” Quinn asked, and then coughed, her eyelids heavy as she looked up at Rachel and smiled that same lopsided smile Rachel had been dying to see. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Rachel choked out.

“You ‘kay?” Quinn was barely understandable, her voice rough, the thick rasp reminding Rachel of that blasted ventilator. But the sentiment still carried through and everything else fell away for Rachel. Millie didn’t matter anymore, nothing mattered but the woozy concern in Quinn’s eyes and the feel of her tentative grip on Rachel’s hand.

“Am I okay?” Rachel said and then laughed - the sound strangled, almost as rough as Quinn’s voice - but Quinn smiled. Smiled. 

“I’ll go get the nurse,” Millie announced, leaving in a flash of red hair just as quickly as she’d come.

Rachel watched her go and shook her head, “You have really interesting friends.”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Quinn said, squeezing meekly at Rachel’s fingers. “Sorry.”

“Quinn...”

“I shouldn’t have b - been a bitch - you were right I - “ Quinn paused, face contorted with what had to be painful speech, eyes screwed shut. “Should’ve trusted you - I do - I didn’t want to stress...”

“It’s okay,” Rachel interrupted, lifting Quinn’s hand to kiss the back of her fingers. “Don’t hurt your voice. It’s okay, Quinn. It’s forgotten already. I’m just glad you’re awake now. I was worried. Scared.”

“Sorry. It’s - I’m goin’ to be okay. Promise.”

Rachel’s response was stopped by the return of Millie with a harried looking nurse hot on her heels. Little miss Disney kept her distance now, standing at the foot of the bed and watching intently as the nurse checked Quinn over. Rachel didn’t want to move far, so she kept her fingers tangled in Quinn’s, listening closely as the nurse spoke with Quinn and then told her the doctor would be along shortly.

“But she’s okay?” Rachel asked, smiling at Quinn’s drowsy mumble of “of course I am if people would stop poking me.”

“She’s going to be just fine,” the nurse assured them before she left to go find the doctor, leaving Millie back in the room with them again. 

“Hey, Red,” Quinn teased, finally acknowledging her friend. 

“Hi, Q Nice of you to join us,” Millie replied, grinning. 

Rachel could have slapped her, of course, but Quinn only smiled back. “What did you decide?”

Millie sighed and scrubbed her fingers through those fiery locks. “I’m going to take your advice.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good, that clears up that mystery,” Rachel mumbled. 

“Rachel,” Quinn said, tugging at Rachel’s hand. “Please.”

“It’s alright,” Millie shot Rachel a quick glance and her smile turned grim. “I’m a private person, but I’d rather Quinn not have to - it’s wasn’t my intent to cause problems.”

“You don’t have - “ Quinn started, struggling to sit up.

“I’m going to,” Millie interrupted, watching Rachel gently urge Quinn back against the pillows. “I have some... family issues and they bled into my job recently. Quinn understands better than most, so I came to see her and asked for her advice... and discretion. It’s not something you talk about over the phone.”

“That doesn’t explain the odd hours and sneaking around,” Rachel sniped with a glare that lost its bite as Millie’s proud stance buckled in front of her. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I am. I was being selfish, I didn’t even ask if Quinn had someone waiting at home for her.” Millie cringed, kicking the toe of her shoe across the ground with a sad, small, little squeak. And as much as Rachel would have loved to continue to hate her, seeing Millie like that reminded her of a small child confessing to pushing another kid on the playground.

“It - it’s not her fault,” Quinn argued faintly from the bed. “I should have told you about her.”

Rachel took a deep breath, shaking her head at Quinn’s assertion. “There are too many should haves being thrown around, from all of us. I’d rather just move on. Can we agree on that?”

Quinn made a soft sound of agreement and looked up at Millie who ducked her head with a shy smile. “Good plan,” Millie said, her shy smile turning more sweet as she looked at Rachel like she was meeting her over again, under better circumstances. Perhaps how they could have met, should have met before. 

“You better hang on to her, Q,” Millie said. “I kind of like her.”


	13. Present

Rachel dragged her feet getting ready for the hike, despite the fact that it had warmed up considerably. She was still feeling a bit... edgy. Her eyes were continuously drawn to her purse, thoughts working to try and find the right words, wondering when or if she’d find the right moment. Ryan seemed certain enough of the plan he’d helped her put together, but Rachel wanted it to be perfect; it had to be perfect. Quinn seemed to be enjoying their mini-vacation though - a light that Rachel hadn’t even noticed missing before had returned to Quinn’s eyes. She was laughing more, smiling almost constantly, and humming. It was so carefree it was infectious. It did Rachel’s heart good to see Quinn so happy, especially after the nightmare. They’d have to work to get it out of her, but Rachel could at least grudgingly admit to herself that taking a break had been a great idea; she did feel like a bit of weight had been lifted from her by not having to worry about her performances or anything other than enjoying the company of her friends.

Even if said friends were being insufferable.

“Tadpole! We’re just going for a short hike, not a ten day ruck march into hostile territory! What are you doing?” Ryan bellowed, shaking the tent Rachel was standing in. 

Rolling her eyes she looped her bandana around her neck and exited the tent, pointedly glaring at Ryan. “Hasn’t Allison taught you not to rush a lady?”

“Yeah, but he takes longer to get ready than I do,” Allison informed. She and Quinn were already standing at the trailhead sharing a knowing look. “Actually, he’s made me question whether I’m not taking long enough a couple of times.”

“Messy doesn’t happen - “

“By accident,” Rachel finished for him. “I know. And you people think I’m a diva.”

Acting offended with all the flair of a spoiled debutante, Ryan huffed, stuck his nose in the air, and flounced off, dragging Quinn and Semper with him.

Rachel looked to Allison who was watching her boyfriend sashay down the trail with something akin to fond exasperation. “Shall we?” she asked, holding her arm out for Rachel.

They took their time, following just far enough behind Quinn and Ryan to be able to talk freely about Rachel’s plans without fear of Quinn overhearing. As they walked and chatted, Rachel had to admit that it was kind of nice. It was pretty and peaceful amongst the trees and not too warm or chilly in the shade.

The sun was shining warmly down on them and Rachel grinned at Allison, loving how gorgeous it all actually was. They’d stepped off the trail out into a clearing and the lake glittered temptingly just a few paces away. Rachel knew that it was lying, looking so tantalizing when it was actually probably freezing and filthy, but just seeing it was terribly alluring. 

Ryan called out to Allison, already half way down the short dock with his cooler and fishing gear. Rachel giggled. He looked like an impatient five year old with his floppy hat and fishing vest, wanting his parent to hurry up and help him put the bait on his hook. 

“Duty calls,” Allison joked, nudging Rachel playfully with her shoulder. “There are some nice areas a little further down if you want to avoid seeing Ryan fish.”

Rachel briefly considered it – some alone time with Quinn next to a picturesque lake, basking in sunshine and Quinn’s sweet smile – but then she looked down and saw Quinn laughing and playing fetch with Semper at the edge of lake and shook her head. “I think this is perfect already.”

Allison nodded, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her cut-off shorts and starting off in Ryan’s direction. “You got mad at me last time we went fishing because I caught everything!” she shouted as Rachel laughed at Ryan’s waving arms and garbled argument. 

“Rachel!” Quinn yelled, valiantly hanging on to the toy she and Semper were fighting over. 

“Do you require assistance?” Rachel asked, giggling as Semper tugged especially hard and nearly toppled Quinn. She hurried down and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist to help her pull. Semper fought for a few more seconds and then released her grip. Thankfully Quinn had been prepared enough to stay on her feet and she held the toy up above her head in victory.

“Ha! I win!” She crowed, dodging Semper’s attempts to leap up and reclaim her toy.

“Quinn, be nice to her,” Rachel scolded, grabbing Quinn’s shoulder and standing up on her toes to reach the slimy trophy. “What is this thing?”

“Some sort of waterproof toy, I don’t know,” Quinn said, pouting when Rachel successfully pried the toy from her fingers. “I think it’s got tennis balls in it.”

Rachel held the toy at chest level, turning it over in her hands as she tried to figure out what it was. “It looks like those back massager things.”

Distracted with her investigation of the toy, Rachel missed seeing Quinn back away from her to shout something over at Ryan and Allison

She also missed the crazed “Time to play?” look on Semper’s doggie face. 

Semper stood up, stubby tail wagging slowly back and forth, her brown eyes focused with the scary intent only a dog fixated on her toy could achieve. A toy that Rachel was currently holding captive. As Rachel turned to remark to Quinn that she didn’t think the toy could float because it seemed too heavy, she registered a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Semper! No!”

It was too little, too late.

The eager dog crashed into Rachel, jaws locking on to the stolen toy, and they both went flying into the lake with a large splash.

Rachel surfaced almost immediately with a loud squeal. She slapped the water in Semper’s direction, furious as she watched her four-legged once-friend swimming around happily, toy clenched in her teeth. She looked over to see Quinn, Allison, and Ryan all doubled over with laughter and splashed the water in their direction. 

She was already shivering from the shockingly cold water as she tried to quickly slop her way back to shore, and was trying desperately hard not to think about all the bacteria and fish poop that had to be floating in the water now coating her skin. 

“Rachel, are you okay?” Quinn asked, holding out her hand to help Rachel the last few steps out of the lake. 

“I hate lakes and dogs and camping and nature and you right now,” Rachel declared through her chattering teeth. She bypassed Quinn’s outstretched hand and stood shaking and dripping back on the sand, leveling a glare at Quinn. “I need a shower.”

“I’d say you just took one,” Ryan chimed in from the safety of the dock. “But if it’ll make you feel better…” He shrugged and reached over to one-handed shove Allison off the end of the dock. “There.”

Allison screamed just as loudly as Rachel had, right before disappearing under the surface of the lake, throwing a wave of water up at Ryan once she resurfaced. “You – you – ugh!”

“And now that the fish are all sufficiently scared away,” Ryan placed his pole down, stripped off his vest and shirt and dove into the lake to join Allison. “Holy Poseidon it’s cold!”

He grinned at Allison, who in turn wasted no time in trying to drown him in the frigid lake.

Quinn shook her head at their antics and cautiously put her arm around Rachel. “Hey, I’m sorry you fell into the lake. Can I make it up to you?”

“Are you going to take me home?” Rachel asked, grudgingly leaning into Quinn’s warm, dry side.

“Something better,” Quinn promised and fondly bopped Rachel on the end of the nose. “Come on.” 

\---

Rachel didn’t know what she’d been expecting Quinn to do, but the word “hammock” had not popped up once in her thoughts. Still wet and cold and fairly miserable in her wet shorts, she’d really been hoping for alcohol or some sort of warm beverage, not a hazardous hammock attached to two trees. She’d just about had it with the whole camping adventure, actually, but then Quinn looked over at her, sat in the hammock, and patted the side with that soft smile of hers and Rachel promptly melted into a pile of “cute Quinn” goo. 

She was careful as she sat by Quinn, not wanting to send them both sprawling into the dirt. Then she’d be muddy on top of soaked. “This is your grand idea?”

Quinn’s smile turned lopsided as she picked up a towel from behind her and started to dry Rachel off. “You’ll see.”

Rachel huffed but closed her eyes and leaned into Quinn’s hands and the soft towel. It made it a tiny bit more bearable. 

“Your hair’s all curly,” Quinn noted and tugged at one curl. 

“You’ve seen it in its natural state before,” Rachel commented, blinking her eyes back open when the towel stopped moving over her skin and hair. 

“Yeah, but you usually don’t leave it like this for long.” Quinn reached back again trading the towel for a blanket. “Now this is a time honored camping tradition, and it’s one I think you’re really going to like…”

“Quinn…” Rachel started and sighed.

“Trust me,” Quinn urged and draped the blanket around Rachel’s shoulders. She twisted carefully and somehow, before Rachel could figure out what was about to happen, pulled Rachel down so they were laying together on the hammock with the blanket over them.

And nobody fell.

“How did you do that?” Rachel demanded with wide eyes as the hammock swayed.

“Practice,” Quinn said and slipped her hand under the hammock pillow, reappearing with a tattered book. “This is the tradition of ‘hammock napping’ and I think you’re going to love it.”

“And the book is for…?”

“Hammock reading to induce happy sleepiness,” Quinn said very seriously, smiling again when Rachel rolled her eyes and giggled. “Hush, Superstar.” She opened the book and Rachel pillowed her head on Quinn’s shoulder, already less annoyed and content cuddled up with Quinn – even if they were in a precarious hammock. “This is the story of Hank the Cowdog.”

“Hank the… Quinn is this a children’s book?” Rachel tipped her head up and narrowed her eyes, wondering if this was some sort of joke about her reading abilities. 

Quinn sighed and put the book down on her unoccupied shoulder. “It’s one of my favorites, okay? I know that it’s not particularly high brow, but I love them and I want to share it with you. If you hate it then I’ll go dig out something more grown up.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being… I’m sorry, please read it to me?” Rachel said, sufficiently chastised and feeling like an epic bitch. She wormed closer and put her arm over Quinn’s waist, holding tight to her as the hammock swayed again. “Sorry.”

“Rachel, look,” Quinn said, running her free hand up Rachel’s back. “I know what you’ve been thinking about…”

Rachel tensed immediately, seeing all of her plans dashed to ruins and wondering if she could somehow salvage her proposal. She was so busy scheming up a way to convince Quinn she hadn’t been thinking about marriage and proposing that she almost missed the rest of Quinn’s barely spoken sentence.

“I know you’ve been thinking about the night that I – the night I got this scar,” Quinn whispered, guiding Rachel’s hand away from her hip and up onto the puckered reminder forever marking Quinn. “I’m so sorry that you had to – that it happened. I’m sorry that I shut down and caused the fight that led to it and I’m – I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough for the bad dreams and memories. I see it sometimes when you look at me, like you’re reliving it and it hurts me. So I thought maybe something simpler and happier - and yeah maybe a little childish - from my past that helped me through some rough spots might be just the thing for us now.”

Rachel’s eyes immediately blurred with tears, and she sniffled and rubbed her fingertips against the scar, feeling the raised flesh through the thin t-shirt Quinn had on. “I was so scared.” 

“I know,” Quinn said, and stilled Rachel’s hand by wrapping her fingers around Rachel’s. “But you don’t have to be anymore, okay? I’m here and I promised I wouldn’t shut you out like that again – and I don’t intend to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel adjusted and deposited a lingering kiss onto the scar and then to the back of Quinn’s hand. “I would like to hear about Hank the Cowdog.”

Quinn’s smile came back and she raised the book once more. She started reading, tone brightening as she got further into the story, even going as far as to come up with different voices for the various characters.

It had a powerful effect on Rachel, and her eyelids grew increasingly heavy until she couldn’t fight them any longer. She didn’t know when she’d actually fallen asleep, but she was pulled out of her nap by Ryan shaking her shoulder insistently. 

“Rachel,” he whispered and pulled on a lock of her curly hair. “Wake up!”

“Go away,” Rachel grumbled, holding tighter to Quinn.

“You’re wasting time,” he said, bending down to whisper right against her ear. She frowned, opened her eyes, and twisted to glare up at him.

“If you wake Quinn up…” she warned. 

“Tadpole, you are – she’s out cold, and you could be using this valuable time to be, uh, communing with nature.”

“Thank you, but I’ve had enough nature to last the rest of my life.” Rachel rolled her eyes and put her head back down on Quinn’s shoulder. “Go away, Quinn time is now.”

“For the love of – Rachel, wouldn’t now be an opportune time to set up something special for when Q wakes up?”

Rachel’s eyes popped back open. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” Ryan repeated and held his hands out. “Here, let me help you out of that death trap.”

\---

It had to be perfect, absolutely down the last detail perfect. Rachel was bound and determined – hopefully she’d only ever do this once, and she had a mental list that she was checking off so when Quinn told the story later whilst showing off her ring it would be the most magical, enchanting, and happy tear-inducing tale that either of them ever told. 

She made her way out into the woods armed with a can of pepper spray, cell phone, a duffle bag, and a picnic basket that Allison had helped her put together. Not that she exactly knew where she was going with all of her “gear”, as Ryan teasingly called it; she was banking on knowing she was in the right place when she found it. Which unfortunately meant wandering around in the stupid forest by herself as the sun started to dip in the sky.

“Quinn better appreciate this,” she grumbled, jumping when she heard the rustle of something a few paces away. “It’s just a squirrel, or a cute bunny rabbit, or something. Not a zombie squirrel or vampire bunny or a bear.”

Widening her eyes - to “use” her peripherals - Rachel continued her journey, trying not to trip or make herself in to too tempting a target as she determinedly continued searching for the location. Only to nearly walk nose first into a tree because she’d gotten distracted by how pretty the lake looked with the sun setting behind it. 

Grabbing the tree out of reflex she huffed and shook her head. “I am just not cut out to be a Junior Wilderness Explorer.”

Turning around, she blinked rapidly and realized something else that any good Wilderness Explorer would have been prepared for.

She’d not left any sort of trail or followed any sort of set path to keep her from getting lost.

Rachel swallowed hard and stepped backwards until her back met with the tree trunk she’d nearly broken her face on. “I’m not lost. I’m not.”

A bird called out lowly and Rachel whirled around to pepper spray… a bush of some sort.

Coughing as the chemical cocktail assaulted her senses, she glared at the bush and almost threw the can away from her. 

“You’ll have fun, Rachel,” she choked out, scrambling away from the now pepper spray-soaked bush. “It’ll be romantic, Rachel. That had better not be poison ivy or oak or whatever.”

She stumbled further away, thinking about calling it quits and just doing something epically romantic when she got home when, through blurry eyes, she saw it and nearly toppled over a fallen tree because her feet didn’t stop moving while she gawked at the perfection.

It was a small little almost-clearing with just enough open space for her to spread out the blanket, really, and she must have somehow gone uphill without noticing it, because the area was on a small bluff overlooking the lake. She could see the forest stretching on and on past the other side of the lake and it really was… “Breathtaking,” she said, swiping at her runny nose and irritated eyes. 

Despite the burning in her throat Rachel threw herself into action, wanting to use what remaining sunlight she had to get it all set up – because attempting anything in a dark forest would be asking for trouble. She quickly cleared the ground of anything poky or hard and spread out her blanket, happy to see that it fit in the clearing like it was meant for it. Then it was on to the candles; she had to be careful because Ryan had said something about forest fires and Smokey the Bear and fiery doom, and Rachel really didn’t want to be turned into a charcoal briquette or burn down Bambi’s home. She spread them carefully around, making sure they were secure and wouldn’t tip, and lit all of them, grinning happily when she stepped back and observed her handy work.

“Okay,” she said, pleased with how well it had all worked out, even as she still felt the niggling of doubt in the back of her head and trepidation over the next part of her scheme. “Now I just have to wait for the sun to set and sit out here in the dark until the opportune moment. No big deal. Just me and candles and nature… and it’s not at all like I’m serving myself as a picnic dinner for a couple of romantically inclined mountain lions…”

Sighing heavily, she flopped down onto the blanket and crossed her legs, pepper spray in hand and phone clutched in her other fist.

She was ready.

Ten minutes later her eyes were aching from her earlier pepper spray incident and from having them constantly widened, and suddenly she really didn’t want to wait for night. 

“Besides… if I wait for the cover of darkness Quinn might get lost trying to find me and then we’ll both die of hypothermia and be bound to forever roam the forests together as ghosts – which may sound somewhat romantic but is also tragic and creepy,” Rachel said, and swallowing hard. 

Now unable to get away from the mental image of her ghostly self trying in vain to be able to touch ghost Quinn for all eternity, she quickly raised her phone and dialed from memory. 

“Rachel? Where are you?”

Rachel glanced around, wondering how exactly she was going to be able to guide Quinn out to her. What was she supposed to say? Um, I’m by some trees and the lake? “I think I’m lost.”

Quinn groaned and Rachel heard the rustle of the blankets and a small squeak that had to have been Quinn falling out of the hammock. “You’re what?”

“I went out into the woods, you know, to enjoy nature because you guys kept telling me I would and now I’m lost.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sun which was still slowly sinking and shivered. If her plan didn’t work out it could be awhile before Quinn found her, and that would probably ruin all romantic notions for the evening. 

“Okay, okay,” Quinn said hurriedly. “That’s - you’re fine, just stay right where you are and I’ll come find you.”

“My phone is going to die,” Rachel told her, checking the screen to confirm that fact. Perhaps planning things just wasn’t one of her many talents. “Hurry.”

Of course with the sun setting and the candles, Quinn was going to be able to see her. Hopefully. So all she had to do was wait. She uttered a soft goodbye and hung up the phone, staring intently into the woods, listening and searching for any sign of Quinn coming to her rescue.

“I’m probably going to be in trouble,” Rachel noted belatedly and grimaced. It probably would have been better to have Ryan assist with Quinn going to find her because now she’d scared Quinn and it was like the time she’d pretended to get hit by a car to get her father’s attention and that hadn’t worked out so well in the end. 

“I’m over here!” she shouted when she heard the sounds of someone stampeding through the forest. The sun had fully set, leaving Rachel feeling exposed with her back to the water and the light of the candles the only thing keeping her from feeling totally alone and actually lost. Which she may have been.

They continued with their game of Marco Polo for awhile and until Quinn finally came within sight of Rachel, stopping short, pistol in her hands.

“Rachel Berry,” Quinn snapped, and tucked her pistol back into her pants before stomping towards Rachel. “Have you lost your mind? I was worried!”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel offered, smiling weakly. “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

“Oh, I don’t know, have Ryan inform me that you’ve snuck off into the woods to re-create your picnic date with Finn?” Quinn’s eyes flashed dangerously as she looked around the charming set-up, her jaw visibly tightening as she ground her teeth together.

Rachel jerked back like she’d been slapped and felt a fresh wave of tears well up. She hadn’t even thought about Finn and their disastrous “date”, nor had she known that Quinn knew about that. “I – you – I’m sorry? I was – I think it’s – I wasn’t trying to…” she dropped her head and exhaled shakily, hands coming up to cover her blush burnt face. She didn’t see Quinn deflate, all the anger slipping away, but she did hear her coming closer and felt her sit down next to her. “I’m sorry, I thought it was romantic.”

“No, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry. This is very romantic and I know that you like picnics, and I was just scared and upset because I thought you were legitimately lost and terrified. You’re not exactly Bear Grylls.”

“That picnic with Finn was awful and I thought – you know how I cling to those stupid romantic ideals in my mind – and I thought that with you it would finally be what I’ve always imagined.” Rachel whispered, ignoring the comment on her lack of survival skills. She was too busy internally berating herself for mimicking something that was probably not a fun memory for Quinn.

“… And now I really feel like a mega-bitch,” Quinn said, and Rachel pulled her hands away from her flaming cheeks to peer up at Quinn hopefully.

“I’m really sorry I scared you; I hadn’t thought that part out very well. Or any of it, I guess.”

Quinn smiled and took Rachel’s hand in hers. “We’re both sorry and now I’d really like to see what else you have planned for this romantic spread – right after you tell me why your eyes are so bloodshot.”

“I wasn’t crying,” Rachel hastened to explain seeing the distress in Quinn’s face return far too quickly. “I scared myself and close range pepper sprayed a plant.”

“Only you,” Quinn remarked, leaning over to kiss Rachel’s cheek. “So you weren’t – you weren’t out here thinking about that night again?”

Rachel sucked in a deep breath, the pain still as instantaneous as it always was - would be. “No. I have been thinking about it a lot recently, but no, I was out here thinking about how much I love you. Enough to agree to camping.”

“That is a lot,” Quinn said and laughed. “I love you too.”

“And,” Rachel cleared her throat, reaching back for the picnic basket and opening it up to hand Quinn her food. “I love you enough that I brought stuff to make your favorite sandwich.”

“You made me a reuben?” Quinn asked, eagerly accepting the foil wrapped sandwich Rachel handed her. “You win, that’s some serious love.”

“I even love you enough that I’m probably going to kiss you without asking you to brush your teeth and use mouthwash after eating that sandwich,” Rachel joked. Quinn wasted no time in biting off a good sized chunk of her food. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned at the taste, and Rachel could only snort, trying not to pull a face as the smell reached her nose. “You know what though, I don’t win…”

“You don’t?” Quinn asked around another bite. “Pretty sure you do.”

“No,” Rachel shook her head slowly, smiling sadly and reaching up to stop Quinn’s hand from delivering another healthy mouthful. “I don’t. Because you love me so much that you stepped in front of me, knowing that you were putting yourself in the path of a bullet. You love me so much that you… Quinn, you died for me.”

Quinn frowned and allowed Rachel to guide her sandwich filled hand down to her lap. She released her grip on her food entirely, twisting to place her now empty hand on Rachel’s knee. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m very much alive.”

“You weren’t, Q. You – you were – your heart stopped,” Rachel all but whispered and closed her eyes against the memory. Sometimes she could still hear the paramedics and the sound of the defibrillator. “Ryan brought you back to me but then again in the ambulance, you went into - and…” When Rachel opened her eyes tears immediately fled, taking off down her cheeks in a race for her chin. “I don’t win in the contest of who loves who the most or enough – you died for me and that’s – there’s no greater love.”

There was the slightest of wobbles in Quinn’s chin and that soft look in her eyes – the same one Rachel had seen during “I Feel Pretty/Unpretty” - and it made her ache. 

“You never...” Quinn bit into her bottom lip and looked up at the sky, the wet sheen of tears visible in the candlelight flickering around them. “You left that part out.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Rachel explained, leaning over to drop her head onto Quinn’s shoulder. “I know you, that you think about me and how seeing you like that must’ve felt for me. I know you and I didn’t want you to try and imagine it in reverse because it’s terrifying and it’s painful.”

“Why now?” Quinn wondered shakily, squeezing her palm around Rachel’s knee. “Why tell me now?”

“Because we – because I haven’t been thinking about you being shot so much as I’ve been thinking about how brave you are, and how much you love me and how scary that is and how I need to – Quinn I desperately need you to know that if roles were reversed I would have done the same thing.”

Quinn flinched hard, the shoulder under Rachel’s head twitching and bumping her head off its perch. Rachel untangled her hand from Quinn’s and reached up to cup Quinn’s cheeks, pulling her gently around so she could look Quinn right in the eye. 

“I – Quinn, I…” Rachel tilted her head back, struggling with her thoughts and the torrent of emotions talking about that night always brought up in her. She saw the brief flash of a shooting star and she suddenly knew exactly how to organize her anxious thoughts into words. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she pulled away from Quinn again and stood up on rubbery knees. Quinn’s frown deepened but Rachel ignored it and held her hands out, waiting for Quinn to join her. Keeping a hold of Quinn’s hands, she smiled encouragingly and raised her chin, hoping Quinn would understand.

She did, and they both looked up at the star dotted night. Quinn was doing that thing she always did, rubbing little circles on Rachel’s knuckles with her thumbs in a way that never failed to help Rachel focus, help her to calm down and figure her way through whatever anxiety she was facing.

“You know everything about me and you know how much I love props, and tonight I’m using the whole sky and the universe, so just stay with me, okay?” Rachel glanced briefly over in Quinn’s direction and found Quinn nodding.

Here we go, Berry. Time to get it right.

“When I was younger I wished on a falling star. I wished as hard as I could for an epic love story. Over the years I thought, sometimes, that my wish had been granted, but then... then I stopped believing in wishing on falling stars. It was childish and I was certain it was a terrible thing my fathers had made up, giving me hope like that seemed immeasurably cruel. But Quinn, then you happened and... I believe in falling stars again. My wish came true and it’s just like - like wishing on a star again. I have this chance, a moment to make my wish again... You’re my falling star, and I - I have a wish.

“What I wish for... what I want to ask...” Rachel blinked through the tears in her eyes and carefully knelt on the clichéd, perfect checkered blanket. With fumbling hands she pulled the engagement ring from her jean’s pocket. “Quinn Fabray, when I wished on that star I didn’t know it, but I was wishing for you and, if you’ll have me, I’d like to ask if you’ll marry me? Will - will you be my star?”

“Stars are important,” Quinn choked out, both hands cradling her own cheeks as she stared at the ring.

“They’re more than a metaphor for my stardom,” Rachel said, licking at her lips as she continued to kneel and hold the ring up. “Quinn... Quinn, you’re making me nervous...”

Quinn just kept staring and Rachel wondered if she’d messed up. It was like the whole world was falling in on her. Did Quinn not want to marry her? Oh GOD, were they breaking up? Had the stupid picnic ruined it, or was Quinn still mad about the “I’m lost” thing?

“So, um, you’re either going to say ‘yes’ and have just forgotten how to speak in the face of my heartfelt proposal - in which case I should probably warn you now, if you do say yes I’m going to tackle you - or you’re going to say ‘no’ and haven’t figured out how to yet and if you say ‘no’ I’m going to have to walk out into the lake until the water’s over my head and never come out again. I’ll turn into one of those creepy campfire stories.”

“That is - “ Quinn took a deep breath and wiped at the tears on her face. Then she laughed and Rachel was certain she was going to have to drown herself just to stubbornly keep her word. “That is very dramatic and morbid of you. Of course it’s yes, Rachel. Yes, I will marry you!”

Rachel exhaled all the tension from her body and with shaking hands pulled Quinn’s left from her face and gently slid the ring into place. Just as she’d said, as soon as that ring was where it belonged on her fiancée’s finger, she squealed and awkwardly lunged forward, still on her knees, tackling Quinn solidly.

Quinn stumbled back but managed not to fall, wrapping her right arm around Rachel’s shoulders, still looking in awe at the glint of the diamond on her ring finger. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” Rachel said, voice muffled by Quinn’s stomach. She pulled away and looked up in time to see Quinn tear her eyes away from the ring. Rachel squealed again when Quinn sort of fell down on top of her, cradling the back of her head to keep it from smacking into the ground too hard and then dragging her in for a dizzying kiss.

At first Rachel was more than content having the air sucked out of her lungs by her passionate fiancée (fiancée!), but when she heard the sound of her zipper being pulled down she was suddenly made aware of where they were.

Very reluctantly she pried her mouth away from Quinn’s and pushed at her shoulders, getting her to sit up a little while Rachel gulped in the air she’d been deprived of. “Wait, wait, wait,” she panted.

“Wait?” Quinn arched an eyebrow, grinning wolfishly down. “Rachel, we just got engaged.”

“I know,” Rachel groaned, squirming to get out from under Quinn. “But we can’t have sex out here.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re in tents in the wilderness, where the wild things are, and Ryan and Allison will hear and as much as I want you... we can’t have sex out in the open. The werewolves will see us and drag us off. There are rules to these things you know; we already tempted fate getting drunk last night! The serial killers and monsters and other things are just waiting for us to break the rules so they can attack!”

Quinn sighed heavily and rolled off of Rachel completely. “You’re ridiculous, but I love you. As soon as we get back to our apartment all bets are off.”

Rachel nodded, licking again at her now swollen lips. “You might want to see about taking a couple more days off work, I don’t think you’ll be able to walk when I’m done.”

“Hmm,” Quinn shook her head and laced their fingers together. “You’re going to need more time off from the stage because you’re going to be too hoarse from screaming my name to sing.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ll need more time off because when I’m through you won’t be able to remember anything past my name.”

“Is that so? When I’m done you won’t be able to recall any of your lines, too busy thinking about all the - “

“Okay, no more,” Rachel whined, turning onto her side and nuzzling under Quinn’s chin. “No more talk about the mind-blowing sex we’re not having.”

“You know…” Quinn said and slipped her fingers under the hem of Rachel’s shirt. “If there isn’t a rule against making out…”

“I’m not sure about that one. You’re the horror movie expert,” Rachel said, gasping softly when Quinn rolled them back over and started kissing her neck. “Oh, oh, this could be bad.”

“If this is bad then I don’t want to be good,” Quinn joked and sat up on her hands to peer into Rachel’s unfocused eyes. She giggled at the dopey expression and lightly kissed the corner of Rachel’s mouth. “I’m armed and dangerous, Rach, we’re leaving in the morning, and it’s so very romantic out here under the stars. Could you bend the rules a little? Hm? For your fiancée?”

Rachel didn’t even think about it, the word fiancée just about short circuited her brain. She reached up and wrapped her palm around the back of Quinn’s neck to yank her down. Quinn seemed more than happy to go back to where she’d left off, leaving a nice big hickey on the side of Rachel’s throat for everyone to see. Rachel turned her head to the side to give Quinn more skin to work with and stared across the lake and up at the sky with heavy half-lidded eyes, a smile curling up the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe camping isn’t so bad after all,” she commented and then grinned, right before she flipped them again, leaning down to repay the favor.


End file.
